


Life and a Little Light

by guyi (yujael)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: A revolution is brewing, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, Gavin lives above, M/M, Michael lives below, the underground/above ground city AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujael/pseuds/guyi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The people who live underground in Aitrix and those who live in Cardace on the surface aren't supposed to mix. Not until they're twenty one years old, when they get the choice to make the switch. Stay in your home, or switch above or below. An okay deal considering the long lasting hatred between the two cities. The problem? Once the switch is made, nobody is allowed back.</p><p>It's a law that's been in place almost as long as the cities have been standing, but when Michael reaches twenty, he's given the chance to go above and see the sun without worrying about never coming back. Yeah, it's breaking the law, but when he meets Gavin during his explorations and realizes that there's something he hates more than the people of Cardace... Well, that's when the problems really start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gears

**Author's Note:**

> It's been over a month mow since I got this prompt, and now that Audeamus is finished, it's time to begin a new adventure! This takes place in a sort of steampunk/dystopian fusion, and it's been through about three different incarnations before I got to the chapter you see here now. I hope it's all worth it, and that I don't disappoint the anon who gave me the prompt!

There's the sound of metal on metal all around him as soon as he pulls the lever down, old gears turning and the lamp arms creaking as they move back into place. When he presses the white button the bulbs turn on, light bounces off the mirrors on the wall to reach the other end of the greenhouse, and the room is lit up. Then there's a heavy _clunk_ when the movement stops.

Michael wipes grease and oil off his hands, watching the lamps closely. If he's finally gotten the wires fixed then they'll stay on, but if the fucker who owns this greenhouse screwed something else up, then they'll sizzle out. After a few minutes, they're still on, and Michael looks down to realize that the cloth he's using is so dirty that it's just pushing oil around his fingers. Fucking fantastic, he thinks, tossing the cloth into the tool box at his feet and kicking the lid shut. 

He only has so many cloths, so thankfully he doesn't have another person to see today. He picks up his case and lugs it past the plants and herbs that are half wilted now. “This is why you call us when it happens, dip shit,” he mutters. “Dumb asses trying to fix their own goddamn lights.”

The fact that he isn't even actually supposed to be doing jobs like this doesn't make him feel any better, because if his boss couldn't find someone with the proper qualifications, then this must be the day when all the idiots are out. At the very least it was only the wires the guy had messed with before deciding to call for help – fool tried to use shit from his own house – and a year ago Michael would have laughed at the stupidity of it, but having to deal with problems like that for a living has apparently taken a toll on his sense of humor. Nowadays he goes in and says nothing, lets people think he's a nice, quiet guy when he really just wants to throw a brick at them.

The owner of the greenhouse is waiting just outside the door and he thanks Michael as soon as he sees that his herb lights are fixed. Michael just nods and tells the guy to call someone as soon as a problem comes up, “because you had a huge fire hazard in there, sir; could have blown the whole complex up if you left it like that.”

The man looks incredibly surprised and then glad in the span of two seconds, and he thanks Michael again before Michael gets on his way, and as soon as he's on the street he wipes his hand on his overalls, fishes out his phone, and types in a message to his coordinator. _Finished the herb lights at the Avery place, please don't bother me again until next week._ Send. And voila. Maybe when he gets home he'll spend the night shooting zombies, that's always good. Hell, maybe he'll take the whole goddamn weekend, he's got four days (and heaven help the poor bastard who tries to tell him otherwise).

His phone slips from his fingers into his pocket again, and he makes a mental note that he'll have to wash off the smudgy fingerprints since there's still grease on his fingers. 

It's getting late in the day, so he's not the only one making his way home. The greenhouse had been quiet, but now sound echoes all around him as he cuts through a neighborhood on his way to the train station – hell, he's probably hearing shit from two streets over, because the city never thought to put sound barriers in any place that half resembled a residential area. Nope. Have to save those bitches for train stations and mine shafts, even though the rest of the city is just as loud.

There's already a small crowd waiting on the platform when he gets there. A few parents, some kids running around in circles, and some people who look like they want nothing more than to go home, shove some food in their faces, and then go to sleep. Michael's one of those people. He's glad that he doesn't have anyone else to see today; he needs time to cool off before he lugs his toolbox half way across the city again (the day he makes enough money to buy his own vehicle, while it's still a very, very long way off, will be a glorious one).

He's made good time today, though. Barely ten minutes after he sits down to wait he hears the sound of wheels rumbling on the track, and a horn blows a moment later as the train comes around the bend, slowing steadily as it reaches the platform. Michael heaves his toolbox off the ground and pulls his pass from his pocket – and he takes extra care to make sure there's no left over oil over the bar code, because the scanners are sensitive fuckers and he's already gotten rejected twice.

The scanner accepts his pass and he's allowed to board the train. Other people automatically move aside as he steps on to give his case a wider berth, and he immediately heads for the seats at the back. They're the only ones that he can sit on and have his feet on his toolbox at the same time so that it doesn't go slipping all over the place. The train moves out of the station and the car lurches forward, but Michael's hardly affected. He sees only one man sitting at the back and he scowls, because the guy is fucking laughing at him.

“You look like you had a good day,” Geoff says, not even bothering to disguise his grin as Michael falls into the seat next to him.

“Don't even start,” Michael warns him through grit teeth. “You don't even know what I just had to deal with. I better be getting overtime for this – I'm not even officially qualified for it and they called me out anyway!”

“Let me guess,” Geoff rubs his chin and stares at the roof. “Home improved gears?”

“No – gears, I can handle – some shit for brains almost blew his entire property up trying to fix the wiring for his herb lights. The wires this guy used were probably from his bathroom!”

Geoff winces. He's not an electrician, never expressed the interest in it like Michael did – but even he knows what a dumb move that is. Herb lights and gold lights have parts made specifically for them, and only them, for a reason – they're the some of closest things this city has to real sunlight, and they're as bright and powerful as all fuck. The only things more powerful are the silver lights, but they aren't used unless almost everything else can't be turned on.

“Ouch, good thing you have the rest of the week off, huh?”

“Yeah, four more days to whack my head against my stove.”

“Well, that reminds me,” Geoff pokes him with his elbow. “Tomorrow's the day you can finally get drunk!”

“I already get drunk,” Michael deadpans.

“And now you can do it legally,” Geoff shrugs. “Which also reminds me, I got a surprise for you.”

Michael lifts his eyebrow in suspicion. Knowing Geoff, the surprise is probably something that will squirt oil on him at the worst possible moment. Not that he couldn't do some good pranks with it, but it's not really what Michael's looking forward to if that's what it is.

“What kind of surprise?” He asks carefully.

“A surprise surprise,” Geoff replies. He's got a smile on his face, and Michael wonders how long it's going to be until he starts laughing like a goddamn psychopath. “I can't tell you.”

“Then why'd you bring it up?”

“No, I mean I can't tell you _here_ ,” Geoff gestures at the seats around them. Most are empty, but there's still a good number of people near the front of the car, swaying along with the motion of the train. 

Michael would be more interested if Geoff didn't already speak half the time like he knew some secret that nobody else did. “Right,” he says slowly, and then Geoff pulls something from his pocket.

“I'll give you this right now, though,” he drops his voice as he leans closer to Michael. In his hand is a small, thin, square case. 

“What's that?” Michael asks, unimpressed.

“Hey, don't let appearances fool you,” Geoff scolds. “This thing is fucking cool as shit. Hurry up and take it, I'll explain it later. Consider it an early birthday present for one of the hardest working people I've ever known.”

Michael takes the case and turns it over in his hand, already leaving brown, sticky fingerprints on the gray metal. It's heavier than he expected, and he can't see a way to open it. It's definitely not what he expected to get on his twentieth birthday, either. When he tries to pick at what might be a latch, Geoff slaps his hand away.

“Just put the thing in your goddamn pocket,” he says quickly. “And don't lose it. You have no idea what I had to go through to get it.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” Michael asks, slipping it into his pocket. 

“Tomorrow,” Geoff assures him, smiling again. The laughter is starting up. “Come on, I said early birthday present, but I can't give everything away!”

Michael rolls his eyes, but Geoff's right – and if he's feeling particularly maniacal today he's probably going to let Michael go home with this thing, give him the run down tomorrow, and then wait three days for Michael to figure out the rest before it shoots oil at him. Surprise surprise, bitch.

But then again, Michael always had the habit of underestimating Geoff, and his first thought the next day, after Geoff explains the actual purpose for the “gift,” is that he really needs to stop doing that.

–

There are less than two hundred people in the city who've have seen the sun in their whole life – the actual sun, not a picture. That's to be expected, though. They live in an underground metropolis some five, six hundred feet below ground, and those who've seen the sun came from above ground. Michael's probably wrong on the numbers, but what he knows for certain is that some people dug a gigantic hole after a civil war six hundred years ago and then shoved the population of an entire city in it. It was supposedly the most peaceful solution to the problem – leave, or be slaughtered. Or, wait, they said, here's a better idea – _everyone_ stays, and you can all live happily underground while we build the city of Cardace right on top of you.

Which is how they ended up with almost three hundred thousand people in Aitrix who've never seen the sun in their entire life. Of course.

That's not to say they don't get the chance, though. Somewhere around five hundred years ago a law was introduced; once they reach twenty one years of age the citizens of Aitrix and Cardace are all given a choice. Stay, or switch. Stay underground, or see the sun. Stay above ground, or see the almost unnatural world below. They've both got their perks, Michael figures, and there's only once catch in the whole deal: Once the switch is made, nobody goes back. Ever.

It's something everyone seriously considers, but the number of people who make the switch has always been low. Go figure. Michael knows why it goes that way, too. Who'd want to live with the people who forced their ancestors underground, even if there is real light? Who'd want to live with the dark and dirt, regardless of how many glowing species of stone they have? Who'd want to leave their home forever?

The people of Aitrix and Cardace have hated each other for six hundred years, and they're probably going to keep doing so for another six hundred. That's just how it fucking goes. 

But still, Michael finds himself thinking about it. He can't help but wonder, and wish he knew what it's like...

He's been told that it's brighter in Cardace. He's heard that not even the strongest gold or silver light is even close to the sun.

–

His twentieth birthday ends up being full of surprises, and Michael isn't even awake when it all starts. 

He managed to sleep in for a couple hours, but that's all the time he got before Lindsay sneaked into his house and dumped a bucket of ice water over his head – never in his life has he ever woken up faster, Michael thought. Lindsay just laughed it off, ordered him to get up and get ready to go, and told him that nothing said “happy get wasted legally day” like a bucket of freezing water. Then she dragged him out of the house and they rode the train half way across the city to the park in the east side, which is one of the city's artificial landscape areas. 

And that's how he ended up slumped on a bench with Geoff in the park. Neither of them are drunk, but he's pretty sure they will be soon, because Geoff had a sizable portion of the birthday cake and he's most likely going to chase it down with a beer, and if Geoff's having a beer then Michael will, too. He's twenty fucking years old. He can drink in public all he wants, to hell now with what the patrols have to say. 

It's just past lunch, though, and they've been here “throwing shit down” since about nine in the morning. Michael's starting to wonder why Geoff hasn't already had at least one bottle yet. Maybe he wants to be sober to catch the moment the odd looking wrench Michael got shoots oil out. Michael doesn't think he'll care as much as he did yesterday, mostly because he's in a much better mood. He could go for some pranks, if only because he's good at turning it in his favor. 

“Hey, Michael,” Geoff elbows him. “You still have that thing I gave you, right?”

“The box thing?” He'd out it in his pocket before Lindsay pushed him out the door. It's still there, cleaned of oil prints now, and still a mystery. The thing he thought was a latch didn't even budge when he'd tried to pick it again last night.

“Yeah. I swear, if you lost that-”

“No, it's good, I have it,” Michael leans over to pull it out of his pocket a bit, just enough for Geoff to see a corner of it. Geoff nods and relaxes again.

“Good boy,” he says, pausing to yawn. “Now that our stomachs have settled, are you planning on eating anymore cake?”

“Why?”

“Because I have something to show you, dipshit. Do you want your surprise or not?”

“Are you finally going to tell me what it is?”

“Yep, but not here.” Geoff stands up and stretches. “Come on, we'll go for a walk. Not very far, just...” He pauses again and turns around to squint over the buildings behind Michael. Michael looks over his shoulder, but all he can see is a fence, a fake tree, and the buildings surrounding the park. “Yeah, it shouldn't be too long. Let's go, Michael.”

Michael pushes himself off the bench and stands next to Geoff, wondering why he can't just spit out whatever he's hiding. They're at a birthday party surrounded by their own friends. What the hell is in his pocket that they can't even know about? Or maybe they already know, and Geoff ended up being the one who has to explain to Michael that he's holding onto some kind of priceless artifact. 

That, or Geoff's just trying to fuck with his mind. It's all possible. 

“Hey, jackasses!” Geoff calls to their friends who're scattered around the plaza before them. “I'm going to show Michael his super awesome birthday surprise, don't let me hear any of you shitheads blowing up lamp posts before we get back!”

“I'll keep them in line, don't worry Geoff!” Lindsay replies with a salute. Geoff waves at her and then slings an arm around Michael's shoulder, leading him toward the street.

“All right, let's go. Not too fast. That cake was good, but it was really rich and I don't want it coming back up again.” 

They step out onto the street and start walking in the direction Geoff had been looking earlier. There are people walking quickly around them, getting back to work or home after lunch, most of them clutching their jackets or pulling hoods down farther to ward off the cold. It's always cold in Aitrix, being deep underground and all. 

“Okay, what's so important that you can't discuss it on a train or in a park, but you're perfectly fine with doing it on the street?” Michael asks after a moment.

“Oh, don't worry about that,” Geoff says nonchalantly. “It'll quiet down. It's really the creepy looking people and the patrols that I don't want to be around.”

Michael glances around. Almost everyone looks a little creepy (unavoidable unless everyone suddenly decides tomorrow to dress like a bunch of surface idiots in neon colors, or whatever the hell they think is fashion), but the only pair pf patrols he's seen so far were standing watch over the park, probably making sure that nobody under age drinks. The thought makes Michael feel a little odd. “Am I about to be doing something illegal?”

Geoff snorts and shoots a smirk at him. “How long have you been drinking?”

“Okay, let me rephrase that – am I about to do something that can land me in prison for more than six months?”

Geoff puts on his thinking face for a few seconds and then shrugs. “Yeah, probably. That's only assuming you get caught, though.”

Michael glances at the sidewalk, then nods. Can't argue that logic. They walk quietly for a few more minutes, and the crowd thins out just as Geoff said it would. Then Geoff quickly surveys the area before he starts speaking.

“So, you're turning twenty,” he starts with a low whistle. “And if I didn't already know how much of a hard worker you are, I would never have believed that you got called into work on herb lights yesterday. I get fixing bulbs and shit, anybody can do that, but the fact that your boss thought you were ready to do it even though you're not even qualified? That, man... He must really fucking trust you, and that only comes when you work yourself to the bone. God knows you need a day off.”

“That's what I'm doing right now,” Michael reminds him.

“I know. I'm just touching the bases.” Geoff cranes his neck back to look at the network of wire and light above them. The gold lights are all on, so they can't see much of the stalactites without blinding themselves, but Geoff seems to have no problem whatsoever with staring at them. “You're pretty damn proud of yourself, aren't you?”

Michael thinks about it quickly. His boss trusted him enough to risk sending an unqualified worker, and depending on how well the lights run for the next few days, there might be a raise in Michael's future. And he wasn't even twenty when he did it. “I guess so.”

“Yeah, you are,” Geoff chuckles, and he smiles for a few seconds before sobering up. “Okay, you're proud, but my real question is... are you happy with it?”

Michael frowns slightly. He's not sure what Geoff is trying to get at. “What do you mean?”

“I mean are you happy with that?” Geoff repeats himself, sounding more serious. “When you hit twenty one, is that what you're still going to be doing?”

“Probably,” Michael says. “Why not? The people are downright stupid sometimes, but I like working on these things.”

“A year's a long time,” Geoff points out. “And think about it. Twenty one means you can make the switch. What if you want to make it?”

Michael's brow knits tighter; he has thought about it from time to time. Cardace is just something in news reports and shipping information to him, but it has the sun. Light. Real light. And wind that probably doesn't carry the faint metallic scents of the mines. But down here is his home. “You didn't make it,” he says to Geoff.

Geoff nods. “No, I didn't,” he replied quietly. “Family and friends, you know. Who wants to move away and never go home again? But...” he trails off, and then a smile stretches across his face. “That's the problem, isn't it? We don't get to come back if we make the switch. That's why I snagged that little gem there.”

He gestures to Michael's pocket, and Michael digs the case out. “This?”

And then Michael's mind goes blank as he stares at the thing in his hand. He squints at it, and then at Geoff, who has a lazy smirk on his face. This cannot be going where he thinks it's going. 

Geoff stops walking, bringing Michael to a stop with a hand on his shoulder. He points at the building in the distance, one of the only ones, Michael realizes. They've gone much farther from the park than he thought. “Look over there, Michael. What do you see?”

The building that Geoff is pointing to is unmistakable, even from a distance. It's one of the tallest structures in Aitrix, and white lights travel up its sides as it reaches to the ceiling of the cavern – and they probably keep going along with the tower. It's one of the city's service elevators, one of four, and it goes all the way up...

All the way up to Cardace.

“Geoff,” Michael grips the gray metal tightly in his fingers. “What the hell is in my hand?”

“Card key pass,” Geoff replies. He's almost smug about it. He steps in front of Michael and puts both hands on his shoulders. “Listen, Michael. Most people get grumpy at this point in their life, it's normal, but _goddamn_ – you bring a whole new meaning to that word sometimes. I'm serious. And you want to know what I think? You have a fascination with lights, but I think you've got yourself a little backwards, so here's what we're going to do:

“We're going to take that card there, avoid every patrol man we see, and we're going to sneak around to the gate. You're a lucky son of a bitch because the only time that thing's man operated is when maintenance is being done. This one and the west end one are the only ones like this, the other two are manned service all day every day. When we get there, you hold the circular part up to the scanner, and it'll say something like 'access recognized' or some shit like that. It's been a while since I've used it.”

“Wait,” Michael sputters. “You – this is – holy shit, Geoff, what the fuck have you been _doing_?”

This is Geoff, he thinks. Geoff, who is drunk on a daily basis and epitomizes the saying “I don't give a fuck.” And if he's saying what Michael thinks he's saying, then that means... Goddamn. 

“Breaking laws,” Geoff says without skipping a beat. “I went through a lot of trouble to get that off one of the maintenance guys, don't muck it up. Now this part's important. Sneaking in's easy, but there are actually patrols in there. The elevators are right inside, though. Can't miss them. There's a way station half way up, it's like no man's land. Once we get there, we'll have to switch elevators, and then all we have to do from there is avoid the patrols on the Cardace side. You got all that?”

Geoff claps him on the shoulders and waits for a response, and for a moment Michael can only move his lips soundlessly. Son of a – Geoff just gave him instructions on how to break one of the city's most important laws. Holy shit, holy _shit_. Michael can feel his heart pounding against his ribs. Geoff took him away from his birthday party to give him an explanation for something that is _definitely_ not going to shoot oil at his face. 

“This is going to take me up to Cardace?” Michael asks finally, pointing up limply. Geoff nods. “As in, all the way...”

“All the way up, buddy. Trust me, and all you have to do to get back is do it all backwards. I'll go in with you, but then I gotta get back and cover for you.” Geoff smiles and gives Michael's shoulders a shake. “You wanna see the sun, Michael?”

Michael opens and closes his mouth a couple more times. Wanna see the sun? The _sun_? Something bubbles up in his chest and he finds himself laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He is twenty years old today. One year away from being able to make the switch, to decide on whether or not he wants to move away. He could see Cardace, could live there if he wanted. But he couldn't ever come back... Or he can see it all right now, because Geoff just gave him a pass to the maintenance elevators, and all he has to do is avoid being seen. 

“You sneaky bastard,” Michael breathes, gripping the pass so hard the corners dig into his skin. “Of course I want to see the goddamn sun.”

Geoff laughs and squeezes his shoulders. “Then I've got two pieces of advice for you – one, don't get us caught. And two, when you get up there, for the love of God, don't look directly at the sun. When I say that gold lights, hell, even silver lights, are weaker than the sun? I fucking _mean_ it.”

Then he lets go of Michael's shoulder, tuns around, and strolls toward the tower as if he isn't about to break a major law. 

And Michael, still a little stunned, follows him.


	2. That's the Fucking Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's learned three things so far: the sun is very bright, and the citizens are Cardace are assholes, and Geoff is a force to be reckoned with.

The elevator is quiet and loud at the same time. He's completely alone as it goes farther and farther up, but he can still hear the familiar sound of gears turning, something clinking as the elevator is carried closer to the surface. There's also the sound of his blood in his ears, and his breath, and the thoughts bouncing around in his head.

Almost there, he thinks. Almost to Cardace, to the surface. Shit, what is he even supposed to do there? Geoff never told him anything else.

Geoff had left him almost twenty minutes ago now, went back to tell their friends that he wouldn't come back to the park until later. He'd given Michael only one other piece of advice before departing: Prepare to squint like a motherfucker. Then he was gone, sneaking back past the patrols and leaving Michael in the second elevator to Cardace. Fucking _Cardace_. He'll never get over this.

Three sets of green numbers glow above the doors – the time of day, the amount of time since he began his ascent, and the time remaining. It's slow going, being a maintenance shaft on a day where it's unneeded, but he only has a few minutes left – he's only a few moments away from seeing if what the people say is true.

He smooths out his sleeves as he waits, tries to look less like a law breaking asshole from Aitrix (tries to calm his nerves, too, because now that Geoff isn't standing beside him, he realizes how fucking _ridiculous_ this plan is). It's impossible to hide the fact that he's been underground – pale skin, layers, bit on the short side – but the least he can do is attempt to act like a recent switcher who still hasn't gotten a new wardrobe.

“The lighting upstairs isn't bad, and there are a couple corners that were fucking _made_ to be hidden behind,” Geoff told him as they were sneaking into the first elevator. “If you get caught inside they're going to know right away that you're here without permission. The upside is the fact that they're all a bunch of clueless shits who don't know how to patrol in the dark.”

Michael hears another sound from outside the elevator walls – a droning, or maybe another set of gears turning. He can feel the elevator slowing, the sounds becoming less frequent. He looks up again to watch the clocks. One reports that it's almost two in the afternoon, the second is reaching thirty minutes, and the third as counting down the final seconds.

_00:00:09_

Something creaks in the elevator shaft, and the floor vibrates with it. Shit – _shit –_ he's almost there. He'll be walking with the Cardaci soon.

_00:00:07_

Maybe another few meters, and for the first time in his life Michael is going to be on the surface. What the hell is he supposed to do if he gets caught? What are the chances that a patrolman is going to be walking right by the elevator when he comes through? Oh, that's just what he needs.

_00:00:05_

He practices squinting, gripping the card key tight as iron as he scrunches up his face. This is the worst plan ever, but he can't just go back. Geoff took the risk for him – has taken this risk before many times, apparently. Now or never, Michael.

_00:00:03_

He sets his jaw, shakes out his hands and rolls his shoulders. The elevator shakes again, comes to a complete stop with a low _ding_.

_00:00:00_

He's going to see the fucking sun.

–

The first impression Michael gets of the Cardace side of the maintenance shaft is that Geoff was right. The doors open with no sound to reveal a wide, dimly lit hallway. It's empty and quieter than the elevator, but Michael sticks to the wall anyway. When he sidles up to a corner and finds no one beyond it, he carries on just as cautiously, glancing over his shoulder over and over again, and straining to hear any footsteps.

He sees a few patrols during his exploration, but the men in white uniforms don't see him. He squints at their back, wondering why the hell a security guard would wear white. Dark colors are so much easier to move around in, makes it ten times easier to slink past people in the shadows. He only just manages to keep a laugh quiet as he sneaks by one man after another.

This isn't hard at all, he thinks. No wonder Geoff 's been able to get up here before.

And then he reaches the exit – it must be the exit, because light is spilling across the floor and walls, and he stops involuntarily when he sees it. It looks like something he'd see from a gold light, but it's also much different. It's clearly brighter, more ruddy. _Sunlight_.

As he approaches the light warily he hears a door slamming from somewhere down the hall, and voices. The patrols. He glances over his shoulder again, and he knows the passage behind him is only going to be clear for a few more seconds. With that in mind, Michael breaks into a run, pushing through the doors and blinking rapidly as the light gets stronger.

The first thing he sees is a large, colorful shape in the distance, and then the gates around the building, the road, and finally the walls right beside him. All of that comes to him in half a second, and then it's all overshadowed by the fact that – _holy shit, it's brighter than a thousand goddamn gold lights out here._

He squints, almost shutting his eyes entirely, and dives to ground on his left, hoping that he's out of sight from the door. Don't get caught, Geoff told him, and don't look directly at the sun. That was it. The rest is up to you, he tells himself. The plan was to see the sun and go back down, but Michael now has the feeling that Geoff will punch him if he wastes an opportunity like this. Fuck the rules, or some shit like that. Seize the day, you poor SOB.

He opens his eyes slowly, waiting for them to adjust. The road to the building is clear and there are no men at the gates. It's the same as it is in Aitrix, he just has to get out without being seen. Outside the gate is Cardace. Michael sits up carefully, leans against the wall, and lets his eyes travel along the jagged line created by the towers and roofs. The sky line...

The sky.

It's blue, just like the pictures, and it must go on forever. There's no cave wall or tunnel to interrupt it, no stalactites or limestone or glowing achielite hanging down, and not a single gold light. It's almost... scary. There are clouds, though. White, puffy things floating across his vision, and when he cranes his neck back farther and farther, he sees a great ball of -

 _Pain_. Michael flinches and presses his fingers over his eyelids, and even though his eyes are closed, he can still see a white circle.

_For the love of God, don't look directly at the sun._

The sun. That's the fucking _sun_. A sudden laugh escapes Michael's lips. All he can think is: Oops. He wasn't expecting it, had forgotten what Geoff told him as soon as he saw it.

But now he might know how Geoff can stare at the ceiling of Aitrix's cavern for so long. Those gold lights... The things he heard are right – they have nothing on the sun.

He opens his eyes again, blinking madly. Slowly, carefully, he looks up again, and when he catches the ball of light in his peripheral, he stops. He stares at a passing cloud instead, but still keeps the sun in his sight.

It's bright and warm. He's seen pictures of it, seen pictures of the sky and the clouds, too, but this is completely different. Herb lights warm his skin when he's near them, but never enough for him to need less layers. Here, he's sitting in the shadow cast by the wall and he can still feel the heat. He's starting to sweat and he kind of wants to tear off his sweaters.

His shoulders start shaking as more laughter bubbles up from his chest. He's done it. He's twenty years old and he's looking at the sky; he's in Cardace and he just broke the law. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, and Michael can't wipe the grin off his face as he gets to his feet, still using the wall for support. He didn't get caught by the patrols and all he has to do is take two steps and he'll be in the sunlight.

With that thought, Michael takes a step, then another, and then another after that. Breaking the law, Geoff said as if there was nothing wrong with that at all.

And as Michael sneaks through the gate with the stolen card key, walks down the road with his eyes on the sky line, all he can think about is whether or not Cardace is as bustling as Aitrix is, if the people he almost cringes at the thought of are as loud as those who live below them.

–

There are more people in the streets of Cardace, probably because of the warmth, but it still feels quieter. Nothing echoes off the buildings and there aren't any sound barriers. Everything must just float up to the sky instead of bouncing around everywhere. Hell, he can't even hear anything from the other end of the road.

It's a lot more disorienting than he thought it would be – out of everything he expected from the surface, the lack of sounds throwing him off wasn't something he was counting on to throw him off. But nevertheless, more than the sights and more than the people, it's the sounds that make him feel like he's walking in some kind of dream.

But he knows for certain that he not dreaming, mostly because he has a headache. It's the light, he tells himself. He's never been in such a brightly lit place and now it's getting to him. He's also very hot, but he's already ditched all but one of his sweaters by the gate to the maintenance building. He doesn't want to loose the last one. Then he'd feel half naked – he's never been out of his house without at least one sweater on.

This must be what the others must have felt like, he thinks. The people that made the switch and decided to live up here must have been just as disoriented when they got up. He hopes that's how it goes, at least, because he's banking on that a little to keep him less noticeable.

It's a few seconds before he realizes that trying to be inconspicuous while probably being one of the most conspicuous people on the street is one of the dumbest fucking ideas he's ever had. But then again, he _is_ wandering around the surface illegally.

And despite appearances, Michael still thinks it's working to some extent. People stare a bit as they pass by him, but they don't approach him and they don't go running for any of the patrols. They all probably think he's a recent switcher, and when he sees his reflection in a storefront window, he's almost certain of it.

The sun has turned the skins of Cardace's citizens into a range of tans and browns. Michael's skin is pale – fuck, he looks like a walking corpse next to them. These people are also taller than him, and the brightness of their clothes make his eyes hurt while everything on his back is brown or black. He's a bit glad that he hasn't had to speak to any of them, or get close to them in general. He's here to see the sun, not fraternize with these idiots.

He manages to keep track of the sun wherever he goes; sometimes it disappears behind a building and sometimes it's covered by a cloud, but he always finds it again, and every time he makes sure not to stare right at it. There are rumors that it can blind a person, and Michael isn't about to scoff at them. Instead, he simply keeps it in his peripherals, glancing up at the sky every so often to make sure it's still there, even as it's getting lower.

And then Michael finds himself stopping halfway down a street. He'd been wondering how long it would be until the sun set – if he would have time to see it, because he's heard things about sunsets, too – and that made him realize two things. First, he's lost track of time. Secondly, he doesn't know where the fuck he is at all.

The first problem is easily solved – his watch tells him he's only been walking for a couple hours. But the second one...

As an electrician, Michael has gotten fairly used to not knowing exactly where he is on his way through a neighborhood he's never visited before, but this is completely different. That was Aitrix. This is Cardace. The entire goddamn city is unfamiliar and practically alien to him, and it isn't like he can find a patrolman and ask for direction to the maintenance terminal. Maybe a building near it – no, no, fuck, he didn't think about that before coming out here.

Goddamn it, you dumbass. Michael wants to slap himself. Instead, he steps closer to the nearest building and leans farther into the shadow, trying to look like he's just taking a rest. When he looks around, he sees shops and cafes, people meandering through their day, a pair of patrols, and... things. Birds, he reminds himself, birds. Those don't help him at all. Ignore them.

I'll have to ask someone, he thinks, almost cringing. These people don't look like the smartest bunch (don't they have any work to do at all?), but they must at least know the layout of their own city. He could get someone to direct him to the east end, and then find something recognizable. The maintenance building isn't a tower and he can't see it from here, but if he goes far enough east, he'll have to end up there.

He starts walking down the street again, searching for anyone who might be able to help him – and telling himself multiple times that he'll never tell Geoff about his predicament when he gets back to Aitrix; Geoff would never let him live it down. It's a few moments before he finds someone that actually looks intelligent.

The man's got messy hair and a lanky figure, and he's sitting alone at a table outside of one of the cafes, hunched over a collection of pieces to some kind of gadget. Michael isn't sure what it is he's trying to put together, but he seems to know what he's doing with it. Michael watches him for a couple moments, and then prepares himself to step out of the shadows again.

“Uh, excuse me,” Michael clears his throat as he approaches the table. Over the man's shoulder, he sees a dwindling pile of parts and what might be a lens.

“Hmm?” The man doesn't turn to look at Michael, but he nods slowly, acknowledging his presence as he works. The action is familiar to Michael – he's done it many time, too – and it makes him feel better.

“I was wondering if you could help me with some directions,” Michael says carefully. Some of the people passing by give him amused glances. They must think his situation is hilarious. Bastards.

“Where to?”

“Just, uh, kind of the eastern outskirts area.”

The man finally looks over his shoulder, and Michael hopes it isn't because he said something wrong. Apparently not, though, because the guy just looks him up and down, runs his fingers through his sandy hair, and then leans over his project again. “They just built new neighborhood over there,” he says. “Is that where you're living now? You did just switch, didn't you?”

“I – yeah,” Michael shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual. Roll with it, he tells himself. “Yeah, I'm still... getting used to shit.”

The man lets out a small chuckle. “Figured, you look like a walking corpse. Hang on a bit, would you? I've almost got this done.”

“Sure thing,” Michael nods, breathing a silent sigh of relief and ignoring the corpse comment. Not only has the guy not caught on to anything in the least, but he actually does seem like an intelligent person. Michael watches him attach the last few pieces to the object carefully, long fingers handling the small plates and screws deftly. It's a camera, he realizes belatedly. This man is repairing a camera on the side of the fucking road.

“There, all fixed, love!” The man says brightly, clicking the lens into place. Then he holds the camera to his face and slides around in his seat to face Michael, the lens pointed up. “Smile!”

“What?” The camera clicks and the man lowers it before Michael's even thought of really smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Just testing it out,” the camera guy replies, looking into the lens. “Seems all right to me, not sticking anymore.”

“Couldn't you have taken a picture of someone else?”

“What's wrong? Weren't there cameras down there?”

“Of course there ar – were,” Michael snaps. The man doesn't seem offended by his tone. On the contrary, he looks bit disappointed. “But people actually, you know, asked permission before they took pictures.”

The man shrugs it off. “Oh, don't be so uptight about it,” he says. “There's no film in it. I was just fixing up the shutter. Everything's top, nothing to worry about.”

“Well then, just,” Michael lets out a short sigh. Only a few moments ago, this person seemed focused, but now Michael kind of regrets approaching him. “Keep it that way, then.”

“No flash, either? I almost forgot,” The guy leans back against the table, staring up at Michael's face. For some reason he doesn't seem half as intelligent as he did when his back was turned. “I guess you're light sensitive, aren't you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Light, you know,” he waves his hand in the air. “How long have you been up here, anyway?”

Michael has to take a few seconds to come up with a good enough answer. He could just tell the guy that it's none of his business, but he also wants to try and get out of here without leaving a huge impression. “Just a couple days now. Are you going to give me directions or not?”

The mans grins. “Right! You wanted to go east, didn't you?”

Michael nods and glances around, hoping that he can find someone who doesn't seem as odd as this guy. But then the man's standing up and dusting off his pants, and Michael starts thinking that maybe he should just go.

“I'm not too far away from that neighborhood, I'll come with you!”

“That's really not necessary.”

“How much of Cardace have you seen?”

“Not much – the light gives me headaches –”

“I guess it would, what with living underground all the time before now. At least you're up now.”

“Listen, I really just want to go home,” Michael says firmly. “Can you help me at all, or are you just going to keep running on tangents?”

“The neighborhood's this way,” the man finally answers, pointing down the street and starting to walk in the same direction Michael had been going before. “Come on. My name's Gavin, by the way.”

“Vincent,” Michael says, following reluctantly. There's no way he's giving this person his actual name. Gavin can't be all stupid, though, he thinks; he was just fixing his camera outside a cafe, which is definitely not somewhere Michael would go to get something repaired. Hopefully he actually knows where he's going, too.

Gavin leads him down the street and around a corner, looking back over his shoulder every once and a while and fiddling with the camera in his hands. He's quiet for the first few moments, but then Michael gets curious. The way he immediately knew that Michael came from Aitrix makes him wonder. Has he ever seen someone like Geoff?

“Do you know anyone else that's switched?” He asks when Gavin pauses at another crossroads.

“No,” Gavin says offhandedly. “But you guys aren't hard to spot. I'd say you're all like those tall, dark and handsome types, but apparently living underground makes people short.”

“Of course it does!” Michael snaps. “We don't have a fucking sun down there, you know.”

“I know that!” Gavin laughs. “I just thought – I don't know, never mind. I've worked with a couple guys from Aitrix, and I know a guy who knows a guy, but other than that I just see someone at the pub or something and I think, that bloke's definitely from underground.”

“Well – you guys aren't so inconspicuous, either,” Michael says dryly.

“What's so conspicuous about me?”

“Your clothes alone hurt my eyes.”

Gavin looks down at his outfit, and his expression is pure confusion, like he thinks that the collection of white, blue and green is actually bland. “Must be because you wear black all the time.”

“We wear black because it helps us stay _warm_ , you know, where there isn't any sunlight.”

“I get it, I get it; you'll warm up to it eventually,” Gavin says airily. Then he stops at another corner and points to the streets signs. “Okay, this is really as far as I know. I usually go down to the right here, but if you want to get to your house, I think you just have to keep heading straight. There's not much else over here, though, so it really isn't a place you can get lost in. But if you starts seeing warehouses, you should probably backtrack a little bit.”

“I know,” Michael nods, looking over the rooftops. This area is quieter, the buildings shorter and less people walking about, and it's familiar. Past these houses are storage blocks, and past those is the maintenance shaft. “I recognize this place.”

“Good!” Gavin chuckles and pats his shoulder. “Glad I could help you find your way back. Vincent, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks for your help.” Michael glances down at his watch, then at the street ahead. He's been in Cardace for almost three hours. Everyone's probably wondering what he's doing, and what Geoff dragged him away for. The longer he stays here, the more suspicious it's to be, so he'll have to sneak past the patrols as fast as he can. Back down the Aitrix...

He turns around and finds the sun in the sky again. It's dipping down below the taller buildings as the afternoon wears on. He won't have enough time to see it set, and that makes his feet feel a bit heavy. He kind of wishes that he had some excuse to at least see that while he's up here – and then his train of thought is broken by a clicking sound. Gavin's camera shutter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Michael snaps, his attention back on the camera as Gavin lowers it, smiling.

“You're not supposed to look right at the sun, you know,” he reminds Michael.

“I know that. I meant the camera – you put film in it, didn't you?”

“It was only one picture!” Gavin holds his camera away from Michael. “I can give you a print of it. It wasn't half bad.”

“How about you get rid of the picture now?”

“That would ruin the film.”

Michael sighs and puts his back to the sun again. If he knew how to work a camera, he'd just take the film out himself, but he knows next to nothing, and he isn't about the smash the thing that Gavin only just fixed earlier. He's an electrician and makes his living off fixing other people's shit; he knows what it feels like to have his work totally butchered, so even if he doesn't really like this guy (or anyone from Cardace), he's not going to be that much of a fucking asshole.

“Then cut it off later and throw it out,” he says. “And don't take random pictures next time. It's annoying.”

“Next time?” Gavin says curiously. “Hey, if you want to, I know a good pub.”

“That's not what I – look, thanks for helping me and all, but I really gotta go. I have to go crawl under my bed or something until my head stops hurting.”

Gavin nods and starts backing away. “Okay then, Vincent. Just spend some time outside every day and it'll go away, probably. What's that word, acclimating?”

“Yeah, I'll do that.” Michael waves back halfheartedly when Gavin does, and he stands on the corner as Gavin turns away, going farther down the street and then disappearing around another corner. Only then does Michael move, going straight across the road, deeper into the apparently new neighborhood. He passes through quickly, ignoring the housing that Gavin thinks he lives in until he reaches the warehouses on the other side. He's on the outskirts of the city and there are more patrols, but it's easy to hide from them in the shade between the blocks.

His feet are heavy and hurting a little when he finally reaches the terminal again, collecting his sweaters and sneaking through with the card key. Compared to the streets, the building feels cold now. He's felt the sun on his face, and that must be why he's noticing all the chills. There's no sun here, and he's going where the sun doesn't shine. The thought almost makes him pause, but then he shakes his head and keeps going, creeping through the halls to the elevators that will take him down.

Aitrix is his home, and probably always will be. There's so much there that he doesn't want to leave, even for the sun. Just like Geoff, who had the chance to switch but refused.

Of course, Geoff also stole a card key and has traveled between Aitrix and Cardace multiple times. That makes Michael laugh again when he gets back in the elevator, as the clocks starts counting to the moment he's back in Aitrix.

He's twenty years old, and he's been to Cardace. He's seen the sun, talked and walked with a citizen of Cardace. It shouldn't even be funny that he's broken the law, but it is.

–

He doesn't go back to the park when he gets back to Aitrix. It's empty again for the most part, the party goers gone, so he passes right by it and heads to the nearest train station. He thinks about heading home briefly, but there's one last thing he wants to settle before his mind jumps to all the dumbest conclusions, and he ends up at Geoff's house instead of his own.

Geoff's kitchen smells like dinner, beer, and something else that Michael can't place. He'd say perfume, but Geoff doesn't have any of that. Or Michael thinks he doesn't. He might have to start second guessing him. When he barges into Geoff's kitchen, though, it's mostly dinner and beer.

“Okay, I'm fucking serious. Where did you get this?” He slaps the card key on the counter and waits for Geoff to turn away from the stove.

“I told you, didn't I?” Geoff says, not looking away from his frying pan.

“Uh, no, not really.”

“Oh. Well, I picked it off some dumbass patrol a while back, the last time they were doing shit on the stalactites.”

“That... that was more than a year ago!” Michael exclaims. He feels kind of like he's been smacked in the face. How is it that Geoff has had this thing for a year without anyone knowing? “Do they not change the passes or anything?”

“Not unless there's an emergency, I guess,” Geoff shrugs. “Which we would obviously know about. But since we haven't heard of any shit going down, we're still in the green.”

“Have you ever, I don't know, worried about this at all?”

“A bit. I mean, it'd be nasty if I ever got caught, but I wasn't. You didn't, either, obviously.” Geoff pokes his stir fry for a few more seconds, then finally faces Michael. “Speaking of which, how was it? You were gone a while for just looking at the sun.”

He's got a knowing look in his eye; he already knows that Michael did more than look at the sky. Michael feels a rant coming on anyway. There is a lot he wants to say.

“It was... hot,” he starts, looking down at his fingers. The air in Geoff's kitchen is warmer than most, but even it feels colder. “It was – I thought gold lights were string, but the sun... Geoff, it fucking incredible. And I saw way more people up there walking around than you would, but I guess they don't need shit like sound barriers or anything. And I got a headache just looking at them – and holy shit, do they all not have jobs or something? Why are that many people walking around doing nothing?”

“Maybe they're walking to go do something,” Geoff suggests, a lazy smile on his face. “Did you see their trains? Or maybe they've all got secret jobs, like making the fucking clothes on your back.”

“Ha ha,” Michael says flatly. “Okay, those people have jobs, but –”

“And I don't know about you,” Geoff continues as if Michael hadn't spoken. “But I think there are only so many cows and pigs we can fit down here – which is close to none, mind you – so all my steaks are –”

“Whose side are you on here?”

“I'm just saying there's gotta be some mutual appreciation,” Geoff turns back to his stove as he speaks, stirring something in another pot. “Trust me, they have their fair share of idiots, but we also rely on them, and they rely on us. I've been up there more than you, I know this shit. But back to our original conversation. Don't worry about the headache. That goes away with time. Hell, I thought you'd be fine because you're around lights all the time.”

Michael finds himself thinking of the man he met on the street, the camera guy named Gavin. One of the idiots who gets to sit in the sun all day. Then his mind catches up with Geoff's words and he frowns slightly, picking up the thin case again. “Goes away with time? You mean... so, you don't want this back or anything?”

Geoff snorts. “Are you asking me if I gave you a one day only birthday present? That makes me look like such an ass, you know.”

“Well, I just thought – you stole this and you've been using it for a while...”

“And now I'm giving it to you.”

“Why?”

“Okay, I know I told you that part,” Geoff laughs and leans over to clap Michael on the shoulder. “I think you really need it, and for now, I don't.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Geoff fixes him with an uncharacteristically serious stare. “It means that the maintenance elevators aren't the only way upstairs, Michael. I'm not going to go into detail because it's ten times more risky, but I found a way, and as long as I can still get to it, you can keep that key.”

“You...” Michael trails off almost immediately. Geoff is standing in the middle of his kitchen, drinking beer and cooking dinner in an old apron. He doesn't look like a stealthy person, but Michael knows he isn't lying (mostly because he's still holding the card that Geoff stole). If there's one thing he's learned at all today, it's that Geoff is a force to be fucking reckoned with.

“So I can keep it.”

“Yes.”

“You're serious.”

“Yes, Michael!” Geoff rolls his eyes dramatically, and then his face turns serious again. “But you have to agree to something – the others don't know about this. Everyone thinks you ran off west side to play in the springs for three hours, and you have to keep it that way. You cannot, under _any_ circumstances, tell _anyone_ about this. Not about the card key, not about anything I've told you. I don't think I need to explain why. Can you do that?”

Michael considers it. It's a big secret, one that would definitely get out if the wrong person found out. It's also illegal, very, very illegal. He counts himself lucky for not getting caught today, but that was complete chance. If he goes up again, some security guard could be right in front of the elevator when he arrives, and then it'd be over.

But it's so unfair, says a voice in his mind. The one so fascinated with lights. The people of Cardace get to live their whole lives with the sun, and what the hell do we get? Glowing rocks. Energy resources that Cardace also relies on. The springs all over the western edge of Aitrix. All of it is cold – hell, without the magma flowing under the springs, they'd all be a bunch of walking ice blocks.

He's nodding before he even knows it. He wants to see the sun again, feel that wind on his skin. He knows how to keep a secret, how to keep his mouth shut. “Yeah,” he murmurs, says it again stronger. “Yeah, I can do that.”

 


	3. In Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is beginning to regret his decision to "just roll with it" and "try to fit in".

He wakes up in the morning feeling like there's a hangover _just_ starting to creep up on him. He didn't even drink enough to get drunk, but maybe it's all coming from the feeling of warmth and fresh wind on his skin, the sight of the sky. It's like he came down from a high, and now he's feeling the backlash.

However, his first thought is that he still has three days off of work. It actually surprises him a little, probably because his afternoon in Cardace felt like it could have gone on for days.

He lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, running it through his mind again. And again. And then one more time, just to make sure he hasn't skipped over anything. Then he rolls over and sees the blurry shape of the key on his nightstand, a smudge of blue and grey next to his glasses. It's still there, right where he put it last night, and after a few seconds of staring at it too, he starts to feel... queasy. It all goes through his mind again, and only then does he really think about how ridiculously _stupid_ it is. Completely _moronic_ – he could have gotten caught so quickly, all he would have had to do was say the wrong thing.

Somebody's going to find out, he realizes. Somebody's going to figure out he broke the law, and then he'll be fucked. He's going to get up and they're going to come to the door, and they'll never let him go anywhere ever again, and –

Michael forces himself to turn away again, letting out a slow breath. Calm your shit, he tells himself, think about it. Geoff used that route multiple times and never got caught – bastard's never even been arrested for anything but a bar fight – and nobody saw them anyway. Nobody dragged him out of Cardace and nobody's coming to bang on his door as long as he keeps his mouth shut.

“Still in the green,” he murmurs to his quiet room. Green like the achielite glowing on Aitrix's ceiling, or like that shirt that guy from yesterday was wearing.

Gavin, that's what he said his name was when he introduced himself to Michael, because he had no idea that Michael hadn't actually made the switch.

That thought makes Michael smile. Nobody knew; they seriously thought he'd moved to Cardace. He could go up again, and they still wouldn't...

A two second pause is enough to make him doubt it, however, because what if someone _did_ catch on? He looks over at the key again. There's really no telling if he could get caught if he goes up again. The idea itself is even worse than having one up in the first place.

But then he reminds himself for what must be the fiftieth time that Geoff wouldn't have told him flat out to keep the key – hell, go up as many times as he likes and see the sun – if he didn't think he could handle the risk.

He can handle the risk. He can keep it all a secret, even if it's probably one of the biggest secrets in Aitrix anyone could keep.

And that makes it sound ten times more difficult, all the more dangerous, but he's still determined. He's just going to have to be... discreet about it. Yeah. People would be suspicious if he started disappearing every day. He can't use the pass whenever he wants, or else he'll really fuck up. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after; he does have three days, after all. He can do what Geoff does and look up at the gold lights around the city, and then the light in Cardace won't give him as much of a headache. Yes. Good plan.

For extra measure, Michael reaches over and drops the key into the drawer of his nightstand before rolling over again, intent now on sleeping in, and resolving to not even pick up the key again for at least two days, just long enough to keep suspicions low.

–

The time goes by slower than ever before, and despite all his determination, he isn't really surprised that his resolve doesn't last half as long as he wanted it to, because when his second day off has almost passed and he's returning to bed, his last thought before falling asleep is: I have some grey tops, that's light enough to blend in a bit, right?

He waits for a couple hours, just in case someone sends him a message or thinks they want to see him in the morning, but when he's convinced that nobody is going to bother him today, he locks the door, checks for patrols, and goes to the east end.

As it turns out, however, even with a slightly lighter shirt on, there aren't as many people on the streets above to blend in with. The sky is – what's the word – overcast. Clouds completely cover it, and Michael was disappointed when he reached the doors that lead outside and found the light to be so much dimmer than he remembered. The sun is hidden behind the thick layer of clouds in the sky, giving Cardace a less lively appearance.

But he's walking anyway, paying attention to the corners he turns this time. The wind is cooler, the light pounds on his eyes less. He feels much better, if only because the chill isn't so alien to him. This is good, he thinks. The world must be on his side or some shit like that.

He doesn't have any kind of plan this time around. He just walks, and glances up when he thinks it's getting lighter. The sun doesn't peek out, though. He continues on. Takes a right here, leaves the residential area that he's been meandering through for ten minutes, and then he's surrounded by shops again. He tries to find the cafe that he'd stopped outside of before, but he quickly realizes that it's on a different street. Whatever route he took before, this isn't it. There's no odd ball fixing a camera on this street.

Recalling Gavin makes Michael think of the colour of his clothes again. He wore white, blue and green, and it hurt Michael's eyes to look anywhere but at Gavin's face – and even that didn't really bring much relief, because Michael can clearly remember the colour of his eyes, too. The vibrancy. Michael snorts to himself. The first Cardaci he ever met had greenish eyes and a fucking huge nose.

But that aside, Gavin's choice of clothing is apparently common from what Michael can tell. He glances down at himself – black sweater, grey shirt, thick brown pants. Not so common. If he wants to get up here more often, Michael knows he's going to have to change that.

Which is what makes him stop on a street corner, pull his wallet out and start counting his money. Aitrix and Cardace use the same currency, if he has enough he could make some progress on his wardrobe right now. He'd have to be a bit sneakier to get a bag through the maintenance elevator, but he needs something to fit in with. A white shirt is good enough, right? Blue's a nice colour, if he does have enough he could go white shirt, blue sweater. Not a bright blue, maybe a nice navy.

A part of him can't really believe that he's using Gavin as a reference for clothing, but Gavin is, after all, the only Cardaci he's ever really talked to. He sounded dumb, but Michael decides to cut him some slack because he _did_ sit down and fix a camera while having tea and biscuits. But then he took a picture of Michael after he said there was no film in the camera, the prick. If Michael ever sees him again, he's going to have to –

“Are you going to stand there all day?”

Michael's head snaps up so fast his neck hurts a little. There's a woman standing next to him, looking at him with an expression of faint concern. When Michael doesn't respond immediately, she says to him, “You're blocking the sidewalk a little. Are you lost or something?”

She looks like a nice lady, whereas most of the other people around them are giving him the stink eye for taking so much space on the sidewalk. Light hair, blueish eyes, a piercing in her nose and a collection of fucking cool tattoos up and down her arms, kind of like Geoff's. She doesn't have that airy tone that Gavin did, and Michael's next thought is that maybe they aren't all idiots.

She lifts her eyebrows, and then it occurs to him that he still hasn't said anything. Shit, what if she _knows_ now?

“No, I just, uh,” he holds up his wallet in one hand and his money in the other. “Just making sure I have enough.”

“Oh, shopping,” the woman nods knowingly, like she's seen a case like his before. Maybe she knows someone. “You might want to keep the sweater you have on, though. There's a rain forecast this week.”

He glances up at the grey sky. Rain? As in actual _rain_? The woman doesn't say anything about his reaction. Her smile is still soft.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” She says then, surprising Michael. “I know being in a new city can be disorienting, but it's better when you're here longer. It's not as bad as I'm sure you think it is. Not to sound pretentious or anything of course.”

“No, it's fine,” Michael says quickly, shaking his head and taking a half step back, getting out of the way of other pedestrians. He's still a little thrown off by her attitude. “Thanks, though.”

The woman nods and gives him a curt wave before she starts walking away, joining a small huddle of people as they cross to the other side of the road. Michael doesn't move for a moment, just watches her retreating back until she turns and disappears. That was odd, he thinks. She does seem like a nice lady, though. He looks around in case he drew any other attention, but the single pair of patrols he sees isn't even facing him, and everyone else is just changing their course to walk around him with only a small glance at him besides.

He gets moving again, shoving his wallet back in his pocket. If he keeps analyzing the looks that people give him, he's going to get pissed off. Hopefully some colour on his body will help put an end to that. But not bright colour. He glances into each storefront as he passes them, turning away from the ones with brilliant colours pressed against the windows. A few have duller hues, but not dull enough to leave less of an imprint on his eyelids. This is going to take forever.

–

It takes ten minutes, actually.

The shop he finds looks small from the outside, but he can see it behind the mannequins lined up at the window. The length of the building is much more than its width. And he sees some nice dark sweaters inside, too. Super. With his mind made up, Michael steels himself and opens the door.

It's cooler inside, and dimmer. There aren't any customers that he can see, but he can hear someone shuffling around, maybe moving something. Michael shakes out the tension in his shoulders, reminds himself that he's going by his middle name if anyone asks, and then goes right to the rack with an array of sweaters. Nothing is straight up black or brown, but he's pretty sure that ever other colour in the world is here.

“Hey there,” comes a voice from behind Michael. “Are you looking for any – oh shit.”

Michael turns around just in time to see boxes spill out across the floor. A boy follows them, crouching quickly and piling them up again.

“That wasn't supposed to happen,” he says, glancing at Michael over his shoulder. He looks younger than Michael, maybe by a year or two. “Sorry. Don't tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael says, holding his hands up. “I'm just... looking at sweaters.”

“Time for new clothes?” The guy says conversationally. “Good, because you guys buying in between wardrobes kind of makes my living.”

Michael frowns. “In between wardrobes?”

“You know,” the boy gestures at the racks around him. “People from Aitrix usually avoid bright colours when they first get here, they ease into being walking rainbows, starting with stuff like this. You _are_ from Aitrix, right? Just switched?”

Michael glances down at his outfit. A part of him is relieved that people here don't see him as a suspicious figure, and the rest of him is anxious. He has to be able to keep this up now, or risk giving himself away. “Yeah, I am.”

He stares at the guy in front of him, a small frown still on his face. The boy is about his height, with dark hair and eyes, and his skin is pretty pale. He's also wearing what appears to be a casual suit, if it could be called that. Black and white and a splash of red. For a split second, he looks a little nervous. There's no way he's any older than Michael.

Then the guy smiles at him, as if he can read Michael's thoughts. “Yeah, I know. I'm shockingly pale for a Cardaci, right? Born and raised here, though. I just don't get out a lot.”

“And you just wear suits everywhere?” Michael asks, skeptical.

“When I'm working, yeah.” The boy dusts off his shoulders and straightens out his sleeves. “And I like suits. Make me feel classy, which can be hard when your living is made by, again, switchers buying in between wardrobes. Anything in particular you're looking at?”

He must be around people like me often, Michael thinks as he turns his attention back to the sweaters. That's why he acts nice. “I don't have a lot on me right now.”

“Well, shirt and sweater, or pants? Because I can get you a deal if you buy both a shirt and sweater,” Suit Kid says, standing next to Michael. “But don't tell anyone that, either, because it's not actually bargain season.”

“Then why are you offering bargains?” Michael asks, giving the boy a sideways look.

He takes a few seconds to look Michael up and down, sizing him up, maybe. Then he shrugs. “I don't know. From a business stand point, if I offer you deals then you're more likely to come back. Besides that, you just look like the kind of guy that could use a deal or two.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“No offence, but you've got that 'I've constantly got shit to do' kind of posture, and if you're shopping with a small amount of money, you probably don't have a job yet, and that tells me that you either worked yourself to the bone in Aitrix, or you.... Well, yeah, worked yourself to the bone.”

Michael purses his lips, turning to another rack to hide his annoyed expression. How the fuck can this guy know all this just by looking at him? He kind of wants to leave, but the guy's still talking.

“From what others have told me, switching is expensive anyway. So, why not snag a deal when you can?”

“I guess you have a point,” Michael answers, letting out a silent sigh. There's a moment of quiet between them as he finally finds a blue sweater – made out of thinner fabric than he's used to – and then his curiosity gets the better of him. “How many people come through here, then, from Aitrix?”

“Huh, maybe...” Suit Kid taps his chin and stares at the ceiling. “A few guys every now and then. Enough to keep me here, that's for sure. I also get people buying stuff before they move down to Aitrix.”

“Do you... know anybody?”

He laughs a little. “Well, it's not hard to find them on the street, is it? Yeah, I know a couple people, they come by time to time even though they're full on rainbows now. I know someone who makes a mean steak, and we do lunch sometimes.”

Michael nods, slinging the sweater over his arm and moving on. “I know a guy like that,” he mutters, thinking about Geoff and the perpetual smell of cooking in his house. He finds a shirt easily, a flimsy looking white thing that feels nice between his fingers. It's not expensive, either, and if this kid isn't talking out of his ass he might even get out of here with more than he thought. I could see if the food's good up here, he thinks a little giddy now.

It probably is, considering a lot of it is shipped down to Aitrix, but there's still the factor of freshness. 

Suit Kid looks relieved to be making a sale today, and the way he hums as he rings the prices through make Michael wonder just how often “every now and then” is. He doesn't say anything about it, though. Just takes his bag and starts wondering how to get it back to Aitrix.

“Come back when you need pants and stuff, okay?” Suit Kid calls as Michael starts to leave. “It's a win-win, you get pants, I get nice things. Well, when I get paid I get nice things, but you get the point.”

Michael snorts and stops at the door, leaving it half open to turn to the guy. “Do I get a deal then, too?”

“Depends on if you – _watch out for Gav!_ ”

Michael frowns and starts to turn again when Suit Kid points at something behind him with wide eyes, but before he can even guess as to what he's watching out for, something crashes into him and sends him stumbling back into the shop. No, not something – some _one_.

“Oh – _sausages!_ Sorry about that, I didn't stop in time!” The person exclaims, picking up the bag that Michael had dropped.

“Fuck, Gavin, don't kill my customers!” Suit Kid says loudly as he jogs to the door.

Michael glares at the familiar face of Gavin, who's grinning like an asshole. “You didn't _stop_ fast enough? What the hell kind of excuse is that?”

“You opened the door and I didn't have time to slow down!” Gavin replies in a high pitched voice. He's panting a little and his cheeks are red.

“That's bullshit,” Michael snaps. “That door was open for a good three seconds.”

“That's not enough time to slow – hold up,” Gavin leans forward on the balls of his feet and squints. Then his face lights up with a bright smile. “Hey, it's you!”

“Yeah, me,” Michael sighs. “Can I have my stuff?”

“I remember you,” Gavin says as he hands the bag back to Michael.

“You guys have met?” Suit Kid asks. He looks Michael up and down. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. As for him, we met a couple days ago.”

“It was his first time outside, Ray!” Gavin adds with a waving motion of his arms.

Suit Kid, or Ray, lifts his eyebrows. “Wow, really? Well then, of all the first impressions to make about Cardace, I think I should inform you that you should kind of disregard this one.” He points at Gavin, who starts whining.

“Don't tell him that, Ray!”

“It was not my first time outside,” Michael says quickly, before the conversation can go much farther. “I just haven't gotten used to shit yet.”

“He didn't have a map or anything – and he was wearing this great bloody sweater,” Gavin continues as if Michael hadn't said anything. Michael glares at him.

“You were wearing a jacket,” he points out.

“It was a thin one,” Gavin replies. “And technically it was a lab coat – and more importantly, it was _white_.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“White is cooler, way better in this heat.” Gavin gestures at the street outside as he talks. A gust of strong wind appears to be blowing. It doesn't look hot at all. He's poking fun at Michael, the jackass. He looks like he's about to say more on the temperature and proper clothing, but then he glances between Ray's face and Michael, and then thinks better of it. Michael's glad – rarely has he ever had such an urge to punch a man. Fucking Cardaci. Ray senses a possible confrontation too, apparently.

“I'm all for getting your feelings out,” he says, a hand brushing both Michael and Gavin's shoulders. “But do you have to do it right in front of the door? Kind of bad for business, you know.”

Michael lets out a long breath through his teeth. Ray, at the very least, seems tolerable. He reminds Michael of Lindsay in a way. “It's fine, I'm going now. Are you just going to keep standing in my way?”

“You're sour today, aren't you, Vincent?” Gavin asks lightly, not moving an inch. Michael glares at him. He'd almost forgotten again that he's going by Vincent still. He wasn't supposed to stop and talk to people either, but Gavin has him trapped right now.

“You're being an asshole,” Michael deadpans. Gavin sends him a cheeky look. “If this is what I'm going to have to deal with for the rest of my life, then I swear to fucking God, to hell with the switch laws, I'm going back to Aitrix.”

“That's a little drastic, isn't it?” Ray asks, his expression something between amused and worried. He turns to Gavin. “Look, why don't we put off lunch for today?”

Gavin looks surprised. “Why?”

“Like he said,” Ray nods at Michael. “You're being an ass, and for the sake of keeping him out of jail you should make up for it.”

“That's not really necessary,” Michael says as Gavin puffs his cheeks out, apparently disappointed in not being able to have lunch with Ray. He's about to tell them for a third time that he just wants to leave and go home, but then Gavin pipes up.

“Okay then,” he says, leaning back against the door with his hands on the frame. The door opens a couple inches, but he stays balanced on his heels. Michael frowns at him. “What? Ray's right, I'll leave a better impression this time, I promise!”

Michael looks back at Ray. “Can I trust that?”

Ray shrugs. “If he's paying? Yeah, probably.”

Well, if Gavin's the one paying, Michael thinks. He has to put effort into not smirking and he turns to Gavin. “Okay, you know what? Fine. I'll give you one more chance.”

“You're only saying that because I have to pay,” Gavin retorts. It's not an angry response. He's still got that cheeky grin, and it makes Michael wonder whether or not he just made a mistake. Before he can change his mind, Gavin is stepping back and taking his hands off the door frame, pushing the door open with his backside. “Come on, Vincent, we don't have to go far. Have fun, Ray.”

Michael gives Ray a parting glance over his shoulder. The shop is about to be empty again. Ray just shrugs and tells him, “He's more tolerable with food in his mouth, honestly. Usually, anyway.”

That almost makes Michael stop mid-step, but Gavin is already starting up the street and calling for “Vincent” to hurry up. He doesn't want Gavin to bring too much attention to them, so he leaves the shop, lets the door swing shut behind him, and jogs to catch up. Just roll with it, he tells himself. Ignore that patrol man in his stupid white outfit.

Hopefully the decision to come to Cardace at all today wasn't a mistake. As Gavin leads him around a corner, he thinks, at least he doesn't have that camera again.


	4. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is lunch. And there is a decision. And maybe a revelation in the making.

The place Gavin leads him to actually isn't far at all, just like he said. They turn two corners and then Gavin's pressing his nose against the front window of what Michael can best describe as a cafe-diner mash up. He makes faces at someone inside until they come and open the door and tell him to fuck off unless he's here to eat.

“Hi, Gus,” Gavin says as he slides in past the guy in the doorway. “Ray kicked me out of the store for being mean to Vincent, so now it's me and him instead.”

Gus gives Michael a scrutinizing look. Then he turns to Gavin, who's flopped down in the closest chair. “What, now you're making buddies with switchers?”

Michael glares at the back of his head, doesn't even let up a little when Gus turns back to him.

“You didn't say that about Geoff,” Gavin says in a sing song tone.

Michael blinks and sputters a bit when he talks. “You know Geoff?” He regrets saying it immediately after and starts mentally berating himself, because damn it – there's more than one Geoff in Aitrix. He clamps his mouth shut as Gus squints at him for a few long seconds Fucking busted, he thinks, wincing inwardly.

But then Gus rolls his eyes and replies, “Ramsey, the drunk guy with a million tattoos? Yeah, I know him. He comes around every so often. Cool guy, all things considered. Now get in here if you're eating. I'm not wasting money heating the outdoors.”

He moves out of the way and Michael all but scrambles inside, breathing as quiet of a sigh as he can. Relief sits in his bones, but at the same time he's as tense as ever. He nearly blew it just because a couple guys know Geoff. Sure, it was completely unexpected, but he already knew that Geoff's been here multiple times before – although seriously, what are the chances? The few other patrons inside look his way for a couple seconds, but then they all turn back to their food. He sits down across from Gavin slowly as Gus moves behind the counter, and Gavin shoots him a questioning look.

“You know Geoff, too?”

Michael nods. “Yeah, he's uh...” The guy that stole a card key pass to Cardace and gave it to me. Cool guy, breaks the law all the time. “An old friend of mine. Haven't seen him around lately, though. Have you?”

Gavin shakes his head. “Nope. Apparently he's been real busy.”

Michael has to clench his teeth tightly to stop himself from snorting. Yeah. He's real busy, he thinks. “How'd _you_ meet him? I thought you said you didn't know anybody from down there.”

“I said I knew someone who knows a guy,” Gavin says, ignoring the tone of Michael's voice. “He has some of my pictures, too.”

Michael immediately remembers, once again, when he first spoke to Gavin as he was putting his camera back together. At some point he'd put film in it, too. “That reminds me,” he leans forward on the table and fixes Gavin with a hard stare. “Did you get rid of that picture of me?”

Gavin gives him a wide grin. “I said I would, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but, if I'm going to be totally honest here, I don't really trust you to have done that.”

Gavin heaves an exaggerated sigh and leans back in his chair. “Okay, so my first impression was shitty, but don't they always say that first impressions can be wrong?”

Michael rolls his eyes, and instead of answering he asks, “Are we eating or not? I haven't had anything since I got up this morning.”

“We'll have to wait until Gus gets out of the back,” Gavin says, nodding to the other side of the room. When Michael looks he notices that Gus is nowhere to be seen. “He doesn't like it when others take orders when he's on shift. He's a control freak sometimes, likes to keep things organized his way so that nobody else can bugger it up. There's a story behind that if you want to know.”

“Where did he go?”

“I don't know. Making a call, probably. That's the only reason he'd wander away when we only just got here.”

Great, Michael thinks stiffly. He's stuck in a restaurant with this asshole. Well, not completely stuck, but if he wants to keep up the appearance of not being a law breaking idiot, he's stuck here making small talk with some guy who may or may not have gotten rid of that photo. He should never have gone into that clothes shop – or at the very least, he should have left earlier instead of making small talk with that Ray guy.

I just need to shut the fuck up from now on, is the conclusion that Michael finally arrives at.

Gavin looks down at his phone and Michael turns to the window as a couple birds fly by in a gust of wind. He wonders what a reasonable period of time would be to stay in here. The sun still hasn't come out though, and he's still a little disappointed about it. No gigantic headache, says a small voice in his head – just a niggling pain behind his eyes – and fewer buckets of sweat. The sun also turns skin brown, he reminds himself. Can't be twenty years old and wandering around Aitrix with tanned skin.

He's looking for more reasons to be glad that the sun is hidden when there's a squeaking sound from behind the counter, and he looks to see Gus returning from a door labelled EMPLOYEES ONLY. He sends Michael an odd look when he's approaches, but then turns his attention to Gavin.

“If Ray's not here, is cake back on the menu now?”

It must be some kind of joke, because Gavin chuckles. “Yeah, don't worry.”

“Are you actually having cake for lunch?” Michael asks incredulously. Gavin laughs harder.

“Don't be silly,” he says, shaking his head. Gus mutters something about Aitrix's customs, but Michael ignores it in favour of trying to hear what Gavin's ordering in a murmur. He only catches “a couple of bevs – ugh, fine, lemonade” before Gus turns and leaves, grumbling about underage drinking fines all the way back to the counter. Of course he's not even twenty, Michael thinks.

“Do I not get any say in what to eat?” He asks after a few seconds, frowning across the table as Gavin shifts in his seat.

“Well, I'm paying, aren't I?” Gavin replies. “I don't have tons of money on me right now, so I'm just making sure I can actually afford it.”

“But for all I know you could have just ordered a pile of guacamole for me.”

Gavin makes a disgusted face. “Ugh, do you like that stuff? Why?”

“I _don't_ like it, it was a hypothetical question.”

“This place doesn't even have guacamole, don't get all tied up in a knot. We're just having a couple sandwiches. And lemonade.”

Michael nods and leans back in his chair. They can't get much more average than lemonade and sandwiches. Gavin goes back to his phone, Gus' voice carries over to them from the kitchen, and everything else is a constant drone. Michael thinks about pulling out his own phone, but he's pretty sure that any message he tries to send won't go. He needs a specific licence to be able to send messages between the cities and he highly doubts that Geoff is going to be able to pull that one off. There's only one thing left to do; he turns to the window and watches the street quietly. It lasts until Gavin opens his mouth again.

“So, do you want to hear the story?”

“What story?”

“The story of why Gus must take all orders when he's on shift or else have a major conniption,” Gavin says, reminding Michael of what he'd said in passing earlier. “It's a funny story, really.”

Michael considers it, tries to convince himself that it doesn't sound interesting at all. But it does sound interesting, because he's seen at least two other employees from the corner of his eye, and they aren't taking a single order. It's weird and a little disconcerting. Should he be fearing Gus or something?

He sighs and says, “Okay, what's the story?”

Gavin sits up and clears his throat. He glances around, presumably to see if Gus is in earshot, and when he turns back to Michael, the first words out of his mouth are, “So there was this time when this place carried chili.”

\--

By the end of it, they're both having trouble disguising the fact that Gavin is telling him the story of why Gus is the only one to take orders when he's working. Gus keeps sending them sharp looks, but he doesn't come over. Michael wants to laugh, badly, but he holds out with near silent fits of giggles.

He's heard his share of ridiculous stories, but this one is one of the worst, and Gavin's accent and weird sound effects don't make it any easier to listen to without laughing. The sandwich is front of him is half eaten and mostly forgotten, and he doesn't trust himself to keep a mouthful of any liquid in his mouth.

“You're making that shit up,” Michael hisses.

Gavin shakes his head. “I'm not, I swear. I was there, and if Gus hadn't destroyed the footage, I'd be able to get proof!”

Michael's eyes widen a little bit. “They actually let him destroy security footage?”

Gavin doesn't ask who “they” are before shaking his head. “He didn't actually get permission, but after he explained why he did it, they decided not to fine him. But don’t worry, Vincent, the evidence isn’t all lost. There’s still some stains that he hasn’t managed to get away.”

“On the seats?”

“Nah – they’re along the walls and the floor. They’re not really noticeable, and he’s gotten around to painting over some of them.” Gavin turns slowly in his seat and points to the corner behind Michael. “Behind you there, there’s one. Most of them are behind the counter.”

Michael looks over his shoulder, trying to seem conspicuous about it so that Gus doesn’t see it. He has to squint, but before he turns back, he catches a faded splattering of red on the pale paint. “That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard. And I go to other people’s houses and fix their lighting problems; I’ve seen a lot of stupid shit.”

“So you have a job now?” Gavin asks, leaning forward slightly and lifting his eyebrows.

“What? No, I just…” Michael bites the inside of his cheek and resists the urge to slap himself. Shit. Goddamn. He fucked up already! “I meant I _used_ to be an electrician – just – yeah, I still haven’t gotten used to everything.”

Gavin apparently sees nothing wrong with that statement. Which is only _mostly_ a lie. “So when you do get a job, is that what you’re going to try and get?”

Michael shrugs. “Yeah, why not? I already know how to do it, so… Unless the way things are wired up here are different, which they aren’t, from what I can tell.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t know.” Gavin pauses to take a bite of his sandwich for the first time in five minutes, and Michael quickly mimics him. He should leave. Like really soon, before he screws something else up. He swallows as much as he can without choking, and his sandwich is nearly gone by the time Gavin speaks up again. “Can I ask you something before you choke yourself?”

Michael stops with the sandwich half way to his mouth. “Maybe I’m just really hungry. What do you want to know?”

“What was it like down there? In Aitrix.”

When Michael takes his eyes off the bread, he finds Gavin leaning back on the hind legs of his chair, his hands keeping him anchored to the table. There’s a half smile on his lips, and Michael can’t tell if his eyes are curious or interested in the subject. 

He likes to think there’s a different between the two, and he hates that he can’t differentiate them now. There’s a lot he could say if Gavin’s interested, but not if he’s just curious. He looks back at his food and tries to come up with the right answer.

If he’s curious, Michael could tell him that it’s dark, cold, and they’re only able to avoid becoming ice blocks because they’ve got magma under their feet. He could say that it’s loud and smelly but also looks like a light show every hour of the day because of the combination of electrical lighting and the luminescent rocks.

And if he’s interested, Michael could tell him that it’s loud as shit, but if he listened right he could make a song out of it all. It’s dark, but the glowing stones – green achielite, indigo aredite, violet rosite, just to name a few – make up for it. The magma isn’t there naturally, but they’ve channelled it from fuck knows where and now it heats their streets and their springs, which are one of the most relaxing places ever. They can’t have the fields and woods that Cardace has, but they make up for it with the parks and the ventilation system that somehow filters the gross smells and turns them into a breeze not so different from the ones outside right now. It’s crowded and messy and goddamn it, everyone would look like ghosts if they weren’t under layers, but it grows on them. It really does and – 

– and Michael doesn’t know if he can walk away from it forever. 

Gavin stops rocking back and forth and leans in. “Hello? Are you still in there?”

Michael doesn’t even realize he spoke for a few seconds. Not until he comes even closer and gets down against the table so that he can look right into Michael’s eyes. Michael’s reminded of the achielite.

He blinks and pushes his chair back a little. “What are you doing?”

“You went all quiet,” Gavin says, sitting back, too. “Was that a dumb thing to ask?”

“Haven't you ever seen pictures?”

“Of course I've seen pictures. But I bet you saw pictures of the sun, too, and never really knew what it was like until you got up here. So what's it like down there?”

Michael considers it for a few seconds. Gavin's still smiling. Michael shrugs and tells him, “There's not much to talk about. It's dark.”

Gavin starts chuckling, lifting his hand to cover his mouth but then stopping half way and gesturing out the window. “So it's not really any different that Cardace, is it? Except it's bright.”

“Pretty much,” Michael agrees, looking outside. He scoots closer to the glass and cranes his neck back. There's a break in the clouds, several of them, actually. They're steadily growing, revealing more and more blue, and a moment later, the street is bright again, just like it was the first time. 

“Oh, look at that,” Gavin comments. “Maybe it won't rain today after all.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Michael asks quietly.

“Not really. I'll definitely rain later, though. Just give it a day or two, Vincent. It'll be great!”

Michael tries to sound indifferent. “What's so special about water falling from the sky?”

Gavin doesn't answer right away. “You could argue that it's about as special as light falling from the sky. You only think it's boring now because you haven't seen it.”

Michael takes a breath, still staring up at the blue and grey, and he's about to say, “Maybe I'll come back in time to see it rain,” but then he clamps his mouth shut. He can't say _that_. That would fuck it all up beyond comprehension. Instead, he swallows and turns away from the window. 

“Yeah, well, all I gotta do is wait a couple days, right? We'll see about it then.”

“Great!” Gavin laughs again and picks up his glass of lemonade. It's almost empty. Michael remembers his then, and he downs half of what's left quickly. “Cheers, Vincent! You'll warm up to it, you will – it grows on you.”

“I'm going to be here for the rest of my life, aren't I?” Michael says, his throat feeling a little dry despite the drink. He holds his glass up and the smile comes without force despite the lie. “I should fucking hope so. Cheers.”

\--

He doesn't stop by Geoff's place this time (though he does find a message from Geoff on his phone when he gets back). He goes straight home and almost staggers through the door in his hurry to get in.

It's going to rain at some point in the week, but he only has one more day off.

He pulls out the crumpled sheet of paper that he scribbled down his work schedule on after he lost the original copy. His eyes skitter across it and lock onto the first off day he sees, and he curses under his breath. After tomorrow, he won't have another day off for more than a week. Way too late for rain. Maybe he could call in sick for a couple days?

He thinks about it, walking circles around his kitchen. Unless he wants to go MIA without a feasible explanation, calling in sick is really his only option if he wants to catch the rain. Maybe he could get Geoff to cover for him, too. Then he could go up, check and see if it's going to rain, and then leave. He'll only stay if it is raining, otherwise – 

“Fucking hell.” Michael leaves the kitchen and falls onto his couch. The broken spring in the back of it scrapes against his back and further reminds him of his own stupidity. When the hell did he starts caring about whether or not he got to see it rain? He could just research the damn stuff. When Gavin asks, he'll say it was cold and wet.

But what if it isn't actually cold?

And why would Gavin be asking him what he thought about the rain?

He leans forward and puts his face in his hands. Wanderlust, or some shit like that. That's what this is. He just wants to see it...

And he will. He stand up again, decision made. He'll call in sick, and then after that, he'll _definitely_ stay away. He'll do his goddamn job and wait until his next day off. And even then, he should probably stay home.

Control, he tells himself, mechanically taking the card key from his pocket and shoving it to the back of his dresser drawer. He has to control it.

And will. Just as soon as he sees rain. Then he can stick with what he knows and loves in Aitrix. Geoff doesn't go up whenever the hell he wants to, so he won't either.

He turns out the light in his room and the familiar darkness is back, and he finally lets himself calm down.


	5. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael sees the rain.
> 
> And completely ignores Geoff.

The message that Geoff replies with states the fact that he doesn't believe Michael very clearly: _Yeah, all right, Michael. See you on the train later._

Michael sends him his question again, and then locks his door, picks up his tool case, and heads to the station. His coordinator has sent him two addresses already, and he's hoping that neither will require too many tools or time (and it'd be great if he didn't have to carry his entire case with him everywhere he goes, but he learned pretty early on that there really is no telling how bad a situation is until he gets there. It beats taking another trip to go get what he's missing).

This is how Michael distracts himself for most of his day. Geoff doesn't respond again to his message and he hopes it's because Geoff is going to help him and is coming up with some kind of plan to throw off their friends. There's only so many times Michael can say that he's visiting the springs, after all.

Lindsay and Barbara are going to be hell to get around, he thinks as he makes his way back home when his work is finished. They usually know what's what with everybody and there's not much that slips by them. He's trying to come up with his own way of slipping under their radar when he gets home, and he's still thinking about it after his tool box is away, while he's circling his kitchen, which smells like soup for some reason.

What?

Michael spins around on his heel and sees the pot on the stove. Steam rises from it, and it's the smell of the spices floating on the surface that he's catching. There's also bowls sitting on the counter.

“What the hell?”

When the fuck did that get there?

“Was wondering when you were going to notice that,” comes the response from his living room.

Michael turns again and heads to the doorway, and there's Geoff sitting on the couch. “When the hell did you get here?”

“Almost an hour ago,” Geoff says after a glance at his wrist. “I thought you'd notice the door being unlocked, but you didn't, and then you walked right fucking by me. Did you even realize I wasn't on the train? Goddamn, Michael, I'd ask what you were thinking about, but I already know that much.”

“So you broke into my house and started cooking soup?”

“I thought I'd have it done in time to toss a bowl of it in your face when you walked in,” Geoff explains nonchalantly. “Your front left burner's fucked, by the way.”

“What? No, it's fine, you just have to leave it a moment.”

“Well, either way, just letting you know before I got to the point.” Geoff stands up and sidles past Michael to the stove. “And you being early fucked up my plan anyway, so now I'm going to check my soup, eat it, and _then_ get to the point. Want any?”

Michael considers just standing there and saying nothing, but it occurs to him that he's the one that called Geoff in the first place. He still wants help. The bowls are still on the counter, too. So he takes a seat and says, “Fine.”

“Good choice, because I got a good feeling about this one.”

Geoff still has his back to Michael as he talks. He takes a sip of soup from a ladle and shrugs, then spends the next five minutes leaning against the counter and singing under his breath. Michael doesn't try to keep up any kind of conversation either, because he's got the distinct feeling that Geoff is going to chew him out as soon as the food's done.

It's another five minutes before Geoff actually takes the pot off the stove. He pours half the contents into one bowl and the rest into the other, and then he sits down across from Michael and slides one bowl over.

“So this is your master plan?” Michael asks after a careful spoonful of soup. “Fucking chew me out over dinner?”

“It's nice to know that you still see me as such a villain,” Geoff sighs, “even though I just made you your fucking dinner. I'm not here to beat on you, Michael. I'm here to tell you to be careful.”

“So... will you actually help me?”

Geoff has his spoon half way to his mouth again when he stops and makes it clear with just his eyebrows that he might reach over and clock Michael. “Look at you, you ungrateful brat.”

“What? I'm grateful as fuck, I just want to know – well, for all I know, I could have missed it already!”

“Bah,” Geoff waves his hand and swallows the spoonful. “Don't worry, it didn't rain today.”

“How do you know?”

“My bones are older than yours,” Geoff answers quickly. “Trust me on this. Tomorrow, though. I'd say tomorrow is your last chance for a couple weeks. My advice is call in sick and let me handle Lindsay.”

“That's what I wanted to do today, but you didn't answer me in time.”

“Well then, all the better. The sights of Cardace can be awesome if you ignore all the people giving you shifty looks because your skin's pale, but even if they think you're a switcher, you still have to be careful. If they catch on, you're fucked. You've seen pictures, right?”

“Of the rain?” Not many, really. Most people don't want to see the clouds covering up the sun, so this is one aspect of Cardace that Michael's rarely seen on paper. “A few. Why?”

“I brought a couple with me.” Geoff stands up again goes into the living room. He returns with a couple sheets of photo paper and sets them face up on the table in front of Michael. “Don't get anything on them, they're nice prints.”

Michael squints at the glossy pictures. They can't be copied from a book. “Where did you get these?”

The first seems to have been taken from the middle of a street. The rain is light and there's mist hanging around, making the figures walking along the sidewalk look kind of like the darkly clothed people of Aitrix. It's kind of creepy.

The second is on a balcony. There's a person leaning over the rail with a glass in his outstretched hand, and the rain coming down has half filled it. The face is familiar.

Michael picks up the sheet to get a closer look at it. “Hey, I know that guy.”

“Really?” Geoff leans over his shoulder. “So, uh... you've met Ray already, huh?”

“Last time I was there. Seriously though, where did you get these? The only other pictures I've seen are in shitty books.”

“Friend from up top,” Geoff answers lightly as he takes his seat again. “Awesome lady, she's real artsy. Her apprentice is the one who took those, actually.”

“They're pretty good,” Michael admits as he slides the pictures away from his bowl. “Tell them that next time you see them.”

Geoff snorts, giving Michael an odd look. Michael can't decipher it before it's gone. “Neither of them are that hard to find. You could probably tell them yourself.”

“I don't know anybody there, Geoff,” Michael reminds him. “I don't know how their directories would work, either, and I don't want to risk looking like an idiot.”

“I see why you'd be concerned, but the directories are the same. Most systems are. Trains are fucking awful, though. Anyway. Back to the subject of import. Rain. You want to see it before it's too late, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave all the hard shit to me. Call in sick.”

“That's it?”

“If you wanted something over complicated, you should have asked beforehand,” Geoff says, feigning irritation. “In hindsight, giving you that pass might have been opening a door to a deep obsession, but then again, that's what I thought about myself when I stole it. And I'm fine. For the most part. I'm helping you see these things because I'm a firm believer that they're things we should all get to see.”

“Shame that we have the switch laws,” Michael mutters bitterly.

“Exactly. That's why you have to be really careful. Control how many times you go up and for how long. You're not the only one doing this, so you can't wreck it, understand?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Geoff. Really.”

“You owe me for this, remember that,” Geoff says seriously. He fixes Michael with a hard look. “Just one more thing, and I don't want to sound mean, but you should also watch out for who you talk to. Don't make a whole lot of friends, or they'll find out that much sooner.”

–

It isn't raining when he steps outside and sneaks outside the gate, nor is it when he heads into the city in the clothes he'd bought the last time. The sky is overcast, though, and Geoff had been adamant when he said it would rain today. Michael doesn't know how he knows, but he's trusting Geoff to be correct on this.

He shivers a bit as he leaves the streets of warehouses and starts meandering around the familiar suburb. It's not just because of the chilling wind (which he's used to anyway) or the patrols that he passes, trying to look nonchalant even though he hears them muttering about switchers always out in the rain.

He's never called in sick on a day that he wasn't actually sick before. And considering the fact that he called in sick today to do something very, very illegal doesn't make the feeling any better. He shakes it off, though. He'll get wet and cover it up with his layers, which are safely hidden inside a closet in the maintenance station. Geoff warned him about actually getting sick, but if that happens he'll call in again. All he has to do now is do the same thing he did before.

The people of Cardace are running around, jackets held tight against them as they hurry to get out of the wind. He hears someone say that they want to get home quickly because they can smell it coming. Michael sniffs the air and tries to commit the scent to memory.

Weird, he thinks, that there's a smell to water falling from the sky. 

He doesn't have anywhere to go, so while people are rushing by him, he just stands on the edge of the sidewalk outside of a familiar diner, toes occasionally dipping off the curb and brushing the road, which is mostly empty. There's a bench right next to him, but he doesn't sit because he can _feel_ the dampness in the air. Geoff is right. It's going to rain. Today. He's a lucky son of a bitch and he hasn't missed it.

Come on, he tells the sky soundlessly. The clouds are getting darker as they swirl around, and Michael finds himself watching them until there's a dull ache in his neck.

Once, he thinks he feels it, and he stretches his hands out, waits for more. He promptly feels stupid, though, because whatever brushed his finger doesn't come again. The chill dulls and goes away and he drops his hands. He keeps looking at the sky, though. There's a word for what he felt, he's pretty sure. Not really rain, but something. 

He ignores the Cardaci who passes with a snigger. Doesn't even glance at them. They probably see this shit all the time, anyway. Rain and switchers looking at it because they can, because they've been stuck under the fucking ground all their life, and all these bastards have to do is walk outside and – 

“You really did come back.”

Michael stumbles off the curb before his brain can register the owner of the voice. He leaps back to the sidewalk and glares at the ass standing next to him. Gavin's laughing, holding one hand over his mouth and while the other holds a white cloth over something hanging from his neck. Probably his damn camera.

“What the hell are you doing?” Michael snaps. When had Gavin even found him? “Warn a guy, would you?”

“Sorry,” Gavin says, composing himself. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I wasn't scared.”

“Looked like it to me.”

“That's called being startled, Gavin. Sneak up behind someone and that's what happens.” Michael gives himself a shake and balances himself on the curb again. “When did you get here?”

“I was just on a lovely little stroll,” Gavin replies lightly. “Looking for some inspiration,” he pats the camera under its cover, and Michael's eyes narrow.

“That's your camera, right?”

Gavin catches on pretty quick, and he answers just as fast. “Yeah, but don't worry, I've only taken a couple pictures of birds and my friend Dan being dumb.”

Michael has the feeling that he isn't speaking the whole truth. He doesn't push it, though. He's not here to argue with anybody. He cranes his neck back again. 

“I didn't think you'd come all the way out here,” Gavin says as he sits down on the bench. “I'd just stand out on my own front lawn so that I could go in fast.”

Michael scrambles for a reply. He doesn't have a square of grass in front of his house even in Aitrix. “Maybe I want to get wet.”

Gavin sniggers. “Understandable, I guess. How's your head today, then? It's all cloudy and gloomy, so the light can't be that bad.”

“It's fine,” Michael mutters. He probably won't have to take any pain killers when he gets back this time. “It hasn't really bothered me. I was around bright lights in Aitrix, too.”

“Electrician, you said, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Can't imagine whatever lights down there are as strong as what we have.”

“So? Light's light.”

“Natural light beats out artificial light. More warmth, more brightness.”

“You _want_ me to punch you, don't you? Because I will.”

“I'm just making a point!”

“Well, your point is stupid.”

Silence falls between them when Gavin doesn't come back with anything, and Michael's glad for that. The clouds continue stirring around above them, but the rain still hasn't come down.

“Hope you like being cold and sick,” Gavin murmurs a few moments later.

“I'm used to the cold,” Michael tells him gruffly, “and I don't mind being sick for a while. What about you? You're going to get wet if you sit out here.”

“I'm out here for the rain in the first place,” Gavin answers nonchalantly. “Can't get good shots from inside. And besides, I don't get sick anyway.”

Michael snorts and shakes his head. “Everybody gets sick.”

“Nope. Not me. If I feel it coming, I just-”

He stops, and when he doesn't continue, Michael looks down to see him smiling at the sky. Gavin wipes something off his nose and meets Michael's eyes, and Michael's about to ask what the hell he's grinning at when it lands on his hand.

“There it is,” Gavin says merrily.

Michael hardly hears him as he squints at his hand. There's a drop of water near his thumb. And another next to it – and on his face, too. He looks up again as more fall down, little things, barely even noticeable if it weren't for the fact that the only time he's ever felt it before is because of the occasional oil leak, or a dripping pipe in his house. 

It's cold. It doesn't smell like metal, or dirt, or the filters that the water in Aitrix goes through again and again. Michael laughs at it, because it doesn't smell like _anything_ , it's just-

“It's just drizzle,” comes Gavin's voice again. He stands up, still holding the cloth safely over his camera. “It's not even that heavy.”

“It's more than what we get in Aitrix!” Michael exclaims before he even thinks about it. He steps off the curb with his hands outstretched. “If shit starts falling from above, Gavin, that usually means that there's a big ass problem! Is this a problem?”

Gavin chuckles. “Here? We'd all be dead if it never rained.”

There are other Cardaci around him, people scurrying by, protected from the rain by their umbrellas. They've all felt rain before. Some of them slow down and watch him shuffle around the street. Somebody smiles. He takes his glasses off and folds them away in his pocket so that drops start landing right on the corners of his eyes. 

“So this is a good thing,” he says to Gavin, even though he's not even sure where Gavin is because his head is still tilted back. “This is fucking fantastic and everybody's trying to get out of it?”

“That's the gist of it,” Gavin replies from somewhere behind him. “Not everybody, though. Some people really like it.”

“I really like it.” It feels clean. Unfiltered water in Aitrix smells weird, almost like plastic and metal, but not this. He laughs again as he turns around.

And then he hears a click. His neck hurts even more when his head snaps back down so that he can see Gavin standing just off the curb, the cloth over his arm and one hand winding a dial, advancing the film. His face is blurry, but Michael knows that he's got a smug smile on.

“Are you fucking serious?” So much for new impressions, the asshole.

“It was a good shot!” Gavin cries, holding his camera close as Michael approaches. 

“I told you not to take pictures of me!”

“I'm not going to miss one like that!”

“Well now you're going to lose it, so what's the point?”

“It'll be great, I'll show it to you-” 

“I don't want to see it-”

Gavin takes the cloth off his arm and tries to use it to ward Michael away. When Michael takes it away form him he just laughs and says, “Don't drop that. It's special and I need it.”

Michael's about to tell him that it's just a cloth, and he should have a camera out in here in the first place, but when he takes a closer look at it, he can see the tiny droplets sliding off the shiny material. Huh. Maybe it's a little special. Enough to be a bargaining chip, at least. “Well fine then, I'll cut you a deal. I'll give the cloth back if you cut out the picture.”

Gavin whines and gives him a dejected look. “Again?”

“Your own fucking fault, you know. Come on. Want your precious camera to get wet?”

Gavin gasps and huddles it under his jacket. “Griffon would kill me. Give it back!”

Michael takes a breath to tell him to get rid of the goddamn picture – _again_ – but then the drizzle seems to end. He blinks, looks up at the sky again. He's about the ask Gavin why it stopped – why he called in sick and sneaked all the way up here only for _that_ – when a stronger wind starts to blow, and then Gavin makes an odd crying noise and Michael has to actually cover his eyes because the rain that's coming down isn't just drizzle.

“Here you go, Vincent!” Gavin cheers from underneath the nearest awning. “Look at it coming down – you're going to get soaked! Get out of the middle of the road!”

“Fuck that,” Michael tells him as he steps off the sidewalk again. There's a pair of patrols on the other side of the street now, but he ignores them, even though they've probably stopped just to keep an eye on him. The rain's coming down hard and sliding down his cheeks and neck, his hair is sticking to his face, and he can already feel it through his pants. He's been wet before – Lindsay's dumped buckets of water on him multiples times – but he can't even explain how this is different. “Where the hell is it even all coming from?”

“It's coming from the _clouds_ , Vincent,” Gavin says. “It's a _cycle_. You know, water cycle?”

“No, I don't fucking know, Gavin I live in – I _lived_ in Aitrix all my life. Underground!” Michael has to raise his voice because Gavin is still clinging to a wall while he stands almost in the middle street. “I never got to see the fucking _sun_ , we didn't get to go stand in the street and get wet whenever the hell we had the chance-”

“You're not _in_ Aitrix anymore, though,” Gavin reminds him. There's something in his voice that almost makes Michael wince. He's in Cardace, but he's not supposed to be. Gavin doesn't know that, though. Gavin thinks he's actually-

But Gavin can't know that. Michael has to do everything he can to keep that a secret. He spins on his heel and faces the patrols opposite of Gavin, points at them and shouts, “And what the hell are you staring at? Can't a guy enjoy the rain for the first goddamn time ever?”

For a brief moment, he thinks he's fucked it up. He's seen Cardaci who've switched down to Aitrix snap at the patrols all the time, but maybe it's not the same here. The patrols stare at him, then exchange expressions that are too blurry for Michael to see, and then they move on. He grins when they turn their back on him. It fucking worked.

“You're absolutely mental,” Gavin voice comes from just behind him. Michael turns just in time for Gavin to tug the cloth away from him – _nearly_ away. He clenches his fingers tight around a corner just in time.

“Hey, deal or no deal, man,” he demands. “Or you don't get it back.”

Gavin only has one hand on it, since the other is keeping his camera tucked under his jacket, but his grip is just as strong as Michael's. Maybe stronger. The sound he makes as between crying and laughing, and then he's putting his entire body into an effort to tug the cloth – which might be more like a plastic sheet or some shit like that, now that Michael thinks about it – from Michael's fingers.

Michael almost puts just as much effort into tugging it back. However, he just heaves a low sigh and lets it go, smiling when Gavin nearly falls right on his ass. “You know what? Fucking have it. I don't give a shit right now.”

“Really?” Gavin doesn't pause before hunching over and wrapping the cloth around his camera. When he stands straight again, the camera sits against his chest, apparently completely safe from the downpour. Michael's still sceptical. 

“You still have to get rid of the shot later.”

“But you didn't give it to me, I took it from you.”

“Really? Fucking seriously, Gavin? Can't I just enjoy this – this cold and wet falling down on my head?” Michael turns around before he can hear the answer. And he keeps turning, stepping back onto the curb and spinning in circles down the sidewalk. The drops slide down his face and plaster his hair flat. He can feel it seeping into his skin, chilling him in an almost familiar way, though this is heavier than the cold air he's used to.

He doesn't tell Gavin that. Mostly because Gavin's already laughing at him as he follows Michael down the street. He probably looks ridiculous as is. He tries to picture himself from the eyes of someone else, from those patrols, and a few seconds later he's letting himself laugh with Gavin. He looks like a fucking dumbass, utterly and completely.

But it feels great. Like a great cold shower.

Gavin's laughter dies away briefly, and in its place is a faint click. Michael pretends that he doesn't hear it, because puddles have formed along the curb and in the dips in the sidewalk. These ones, he knows, are completely safe, or at least mostly safe, being composed of rain water and all, which is clean as far as he knows. If Gavin still has his camera out, he keeps his distance as soon as Michael starts leaping from puddle to puddle. The odd pedestrian crosses over the other side of the road to avoid him. 

Michael's glad that they get out of the way. And he only lets Gavin keep his camera out because he knows that he's moving too fast for the shots to be any good at this point. He lets that thought go, deep into the back of his mind along with everything else, and just runs with the wind.

He doesn't know how long they go. How long he runs, practically dancing sometimes, through the streets with Gavin trailing behind him. He knows he needs to leave at some point, probably soon, because while he hasn't been paying attention to any of the turns he's taken, his legs have brought him to the suburbs again. He also knows that they've been going long enough to put a stitch in his side and to make it difficult to breathe. He wants to catch his breath, but he's finding it hard to do so because Gavin's laughter is contagious.

He slows and finally stops running at a corner, leans against the street sign posted there and tries to control the giggles. When he looks over at Gavin, though, he can't help but chuckle some more. Gavin's hair is uncharacteristically flat against his head and Michael can see the red fabric of his shirt through his jacket. The camera is covered once again, but he's still hanging onto it while he tries to catch his own breath. He's still grinning, too, and he still doesn't appear to give a single fuck about the possibility of sickness. His eyes meet Michael's for a split second and he laughs harder.

Michael looks away, cranes his neck back again to the sky and squints to keep the water out of his eyes. The rain hasn't let up yet, either, even though he's feeling it even in his shoes. “That was fun,” he admits when he finally gets enough air.

“Soaked,” Gavin says, pointing weakly at Michael. “You're absolutely soaked, Vincent!”

“Wh – we're both soaked,” Michael corrects after a false start, after he reminds himself that he's still Vincent. How can he keep forgetting? “Everything, completely fucking waterlogged.”

“Except my camera,” Gavin says happily. “How much longer are you going to stay out here? You're going to get really sick.”

“Says the one who didn't bring a goddamn umbrella or anything,” Michael retorts. “And you think _you_ won't get sick?”

“I already told you that I don't get sick.” Gavin looks smug as he surveys the street. Michael's not entirely sure where they are, but Gavin seems to know. He says to Michael with a mostly straight face, “But you never did anything like this before down there, did you? You're definitely going to get sick if you stay out here for much longer.”

“I'll be fine,” Michael assures him. Gavin makes an inelegant sound to match the disbelief in his expression, and Michael rolls his eyes. “Listen, it doesn't really matter anyway. I still live – my house is still a good walk away, so I'm going to be out here for a while no matter what.”

Gavin eyebrows go up briefly. “That sounds stupid, which is something, coming from me. Look, if you really want to, you can go get sopping wet for another half hour on your way home and then feel even worse for it tomorrow, but my place is honestly two blocks away. You can wait out the rest of the rain there if you want – uh, get dry before you go out again, and then not get as sick.”

Michael has to fight to keep his face straight and his voice even. “That's really not...” he manages to say before he trails off and shivers – no, he shudders. It goes through his whole body, and probably for the first time since he first came to Cardace, he seriously feels the cold pressing into his skin. And he remembers that it's going to be there for the entire hour that it's going to take to get back home.

He looks down at his watch. It's one in the afternoon. The rain can't last that much longer, can it? He probably still has a good amount of time. But Geoff had told him to – 

“Is that a yes or a no?” Gavin asks. “Because I can only try to be nice for so long while I'm freezing my ass off here. This also isn't made for long term protection.” 

Michael chuckles as Gavin gestures to his camera, and then he pushes himself away from the post, shoves the sound of Geoff's voice from his mind. Gavin's no danger to him, but at this point, the air of Aitrix alone is. “You know what? Being dry sounds pretty good right now. Lead the way.”

Gavin smiles and nods. “Top.”


	6. Caution versus the Genuine Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good conversation and a companionable silence. Both are kind of scary, but it isn't long before Michael decides to put that battle to rest.

It takes less than five minutes to jog down two blocks and around another corner, and then Michael's following Gavin up a few creaky wooden steps, waiting two seconds on the small front porch for Gavin to unlock the door, and stepping over the threshold. It's much warmer inside, but Michael doesn't venture past the entryway. It's quiet, too. Doesn't look like anyone else is there, which seems kind of odd.

“Just leave your shoes here,” Gavin says as he leaves his own next to the door. Behind him is a narrow hallway that leads to two other rooms before turning a corner. “I'll fetch a blow dryer or something for them. Hold on, and I'll get something dry for you, too.”

Michael nods silently, pulls his shoes off, and then Gavin turns into the hallway, giving Michael a quick look over his shoulder before he disappears around the corner at the end of the hall. Michael takes the time to survey his new surroundings and shiver next to the door.

The entryway is a square a few feet wide, and directly in front of the front door is the hall. To his right is what he figures to be a closet. To the left, he can see most of Gavin's living room. It looks like a nice place; the floors are clean and the coffee table in the living room only has a few papers and pictures spread across it. It looks kind of like his house, but lighter. Less dingy.

“Here, you can wear these,” Gavin says a moment later when he returns. He has dry clothes on and a folded towel sitting on top his head. His camera is no where to be seen, but in his outstretched hands are a second towel, a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Michael takes them, even more grateful for something warm, because his clothes are just fucking uncomfortable now. He's not sure what led him to believe that he could make do with them on the way back home.

“Thanks.”

“Bathroom's the first door on your left,” Gavin says, pointing down the hall. “I'll shove all the wet stuff in the dryer when you get out.”

Michael nods again and pads down the hall, passing a kitchen on the way. When he glances back over his shoulder, Gavin is still standing in the entryway and he's unfolded the towel and started drying his hair. Michael closes the bathroom door quietly.

The first thing he sees is the cabinet above the sink. It's wide open – though the only things in it are dental and shaving things – and when he closes the door, he's face to face with his own reflection. Pale skin, hair stuck to his head and circles under his eyes that he can tell are pretty bad even though he doesn't have his glasses on. He looks kind of like a corpse. He opens the cabinet again and leaves it like he found it.

Everything peels off and leaves a layer of water all over his skin. He shivers a bit as the cold air nips his skin. As soon as it's all off, he grabs the towel and dries himself as fast as he can. Now he knows why the Cardaci laugh at switchers and get out of the rain. Lindsay dumping water on his head is uncomfortable, and this is twice as bad. Holy shit.

It was still nice while it lasted, though.

He leaves the towel on his head and goes for the pants, pushing his glasses onto his face on the way. They're too long in the leg, but he expected that. Gavin's taller and thinner than him. The shirt's also thinner than what he's used to, but the lightness of it is pleasant.

By the time he actually gets out of the bathroom, Gavin seems to be returning from the door at the end of the hall again. He has his wet clothes bundled up in the crook of his arm – though he still has a towel on his head – and when he sees Michael, he offers to take his clothes, too.

“I'll bring these downstairs, and then we'll get to drying your shoes,” he says, walking past Michael and stopping by the front door.

As it turns out, the second door there doesn't hide a closet. There's a set of stairs immediately beyond it, but Michael doesn't try to see what's down there – other than a dryer – because he's not that nosy. The layout of Gavin's house doesn't matter right now. Instead, he hangs back on the edge of the living room and stares at the steadily growing puddle forming under his and Gavin's shoes.

Gavin shuts the basement door behind him and joins Michael in his staring contest for a few seconds before suggesting, “I think we should start off in the sink, just so that we don't get water everywhere. You can bring your shoes to the kitchen and I'll be there in a jiffy.”

Michael picks up his shoes with another quiet nod. In the kitchen, he can see the rain coming down against the window. The sound of the water pattering on the glass is somehow... comforting. It's not that different from shower water landing in the tub, but the only time Michael ever finds _that_ comforting is after a stressful day.

“Huh. This might take a while.”

Michael looks over at Gavin, who's now standing next to him in front of the sink, at the bottom of which are his shoes. “A hair dryer against shoes? Yeah, probably.”

“These are more like boots, though,” Gavin states, picking on up between two fingers. “You wear these all the time?”

“Of course I do,” Michael answers with a slight frown. “Why the hell not? They're good boots. And it was cold in Aitrix, remember?”

“And how long's it been since you switched?” Gavin asks, one eyebrow up.

Shit. Goddamn it. He'd forgotten about his resolve to just keep his mouth shut, and he still has fuck all for a cover story. His response is hasty, the first thing that comes to mind. “I'm planning on doing all my wardrobe switching in one fell swoop. I have a couple outfits now, but when I get enough money I'm just gonna go at the whole thing.”

Gavin turns away to plug in the hair dryer, leaving Michael with too little time to read the expression on his face. As far as he can tell, though, Gavin believes him.

“Okay then,” Gavin says as he returns to Michael's side. He finally takes the towel off his head as he turns the dryer on. “Let's see how this works. I've never actually had to do this, but I don't want to put them in the dryer.”

Michael doesn't comment on the possible results of his boots in the dryer. He's too busy trying to control the urge to say something about Gavin's hair, which, now that it isn't covered by a towel, looks even wilder than it does when it's dry. He settles for trying to disguise a laugh with a cough – but Gavin still catches it, even over the whirring of the dryer, and he points the thing at Michael's face.

“Your hair looks terrible, too.”

“It's curly,” Michael retorts, pushing the dryer back to the sink. “And for someone with wet curly hair, I look fucking fantastic.”

“Only if that can also be applied to, say... a wet raccoon.”

Michael blinks, tries to recall the word “raccoon”, and then frowns. “What the fuck is a raccoon?”

Gavin starts laughing before the question is finished. “Maybe you should get out more, Vincent. Have you not found one of the little buggers in your trash yet?”

What the hell kind of animal goes into people's trash? A raccoon is an animal, right? “No. Should I have?”

“Not if you're doing it right. If you put the trash out at the wrong time, you'll come back and find it all over the damn place. Or they'll occasionally come in through the window if you leave it open at night and make a mess of the kitchen.”

Michael watches him blow the laces around in circles for a moment before asking flatly, “That's happened to you, hasn't it?”

“I came out once to get a drink and there was one sitting on my table,” Gavin says. For all that discovering a scavenging animal in the kitchen seems to be a bad thing, he's smiling. “I got Griffon to agree to putting some screens on the windows when she has the time.”

“Who's Griffon?” Micheal recalls hearing Gavin mention her name earlier.

“Oh, right. She's uh... my friend.”

“You don't sound too sure about that,” Michael comments. “Don't worry, I'm not judging.”

“No, she's not – no! She's actually a pretty well known artist here, and I'm her apprentice,” Gavin explains quickly, not looking at Michael. “I wasn't sure how to say that. But she was my friend first, so that's what I went with.”

“You convinced your artist friend to do housework for you? Wow. What a gentleman.”

“You're not – ugh. Most of what she does is wood and metal work. She knows how to use tools way better than me, so whenever something needs to get done, I just... This is her house, anyway! If something gets wrecked, she's not going to trust me to try and fix it! I'm too clumsy, she says.”

“So, let me get this straight...” Michael glances around the kitchen. He knew this house was too quiet. “You live with your friend and teacher?”

Gavin slumps against the counter briefly. Michael chuckles and wonders how much of a hole he can get Gavin to dig for himself.

“If I don't explain anything, you're going to go home with the worst impression ever.”

“You did a pretty god job of that the first time we met,” Michael points out. “And hey, I said I wasn't judging.”

“Bollocks. You totally are,” Gavin says with a sniff. Then he launches into his explanation. “It's her name on the deed, but I pay her to live here so that she can live in a studio on the other side of the city. We made a deal when I started my apprenticeship last year, because she didn't want to have to keep going back and forth from here to the opposite outskirts every damn day. Waste of time and money, you know? So now, as long as I keep up my rent and give her extra storage space here when she needs it, I get to live here and she gets to be closer to her work. Get it?”

“That sounds like a pretty good deal,” Michael says. He doesn't say anything about the judgment thing.

“I'm nineteen and living on my own in a house,” Gavin replies. “It's a great deal!”

“Is that not common here?”

“Was it down there?”

Michael opens his mouth to say, “Fuck no,” but then pauses. Instead, he tries to figure out a way to explain Aitrix's distribution regulations to someone who's probably never going to even consider switching.

“It's a city in a cave underneath another city, so there's limited space,” he starts. If Gavin catches any of the bitterness, he doesn't say anything about it. Michael leans against the counter as he speaks and doesn't check to see if he's even interested. “There are regulations to, well – to fucking control the population and distribute it properly, and people are usually living with others for at least a couple years after they turn eighteen. Where they go after that depends on the shit they end up doing in their life.”

“Like, how much money they make?”

Michael shrugs. “That's part of it. I became an electrician and made as much money as I could. And since we rely on artificial light every day, electricians are pretty damn important, so they put me in a house. Tiny, but sweet, and most of the stuff in it was paid for by the city. If someone gets a kid, they get a suitable place. If someone owns a greenhouse, they get a place. The city puts you where you need to be depending on what you do with your life, and if you don't like it, then too fucking bad. You're gonna have to work to get somewhere else.”

“Isn't that how life is in general?” Gavin asks. He's so quiet that Michael almost can't hear it at all. “Up here, it's mostly based on your finances. Most of the people I know hate me because I was living alone pretty much from the start.”

“Really.”

“Well, they don't actually _hate_ me. They're just jealous of anyone under twenty on their own. It's expensive, you know.”

“And you get by with photography?”

“I have an actual job, too.”

“It's not in customer service, is it? Because I'd feel sorry for anyone that has to deal with you.”

“You don't think I'm a good person?” Gavin sounds a bit hurt, but he's also smiling. Michael's not sure how he does that.

“I've only seen you three times, and you've done a pretty good job of burying most of you supposed 'good' qualities,” Michael deadpans. He doesn't let it show that he's only half serious. He is standing in Gavin's kitchen and wearing Gavin's clothes, after all. “You're a sneaky little shit.”

Gavin deflates a bit. Michael's still trying to figure out how he can manage to look dejected and bemused at the same time. “You don't sugar coat anything, do you?”

“What would the point of that be?”

“I'll have you know you're standing in my house.”

“I'm aware of that – and technically speaking, this is your friend Griffon's house.”

“I'm drying your shoes!”

“I didn't ask you to do that.”

Michael finds himself smiling again, his responses coming out before he really thinks about them. Gavin just stares at him for a brief moment. Then he takes Michael's hand and gives him the hair dryer before stepping away from the counter.

“Have fun, then,” he says happily.

“You're the one that offered to do it!” Michael reminds him, turning half way to see Gavin opening the fridge and kneeling down.

“Yeah, but you basically just told me that I'm a bad person. Why would I dry your shoes for you after that?”

“Maybe to convince me otherwise?”

Gavin pauses to consider this. “Oh.”

Michael snorts and faces the sink again. He hears Gavin close the fridge door, but the dryer stays in his hand. “Idiot.”

“That's practically my middle name, so I'm not going to hold that one against you,” Gavin comments. “But while we're on the topic of being nice people – I don't have anything alcoholic, but I have this really tasty lemon lime stuff. Want some?”

He's standing next to Michael again, and in each hand he has what appears to be a small bottle of soda. He must have an affinity for lemons, Michael thinks. He takes one with his free hand and reads the label. Lemon lime.

“You honestly don't drink at all?” He asks. Gavin takes the bottle back and opens it for him.

“Yeah, I do. I just ran out of stuff to mix this with. Griffon lets me drink when I visit her studio, too.”

He hands the bottle back, and Michael takes a sip. “You only have this to mix things with it?”

“If something tastes good on its own, why not?”

“What, something tastes good so the first thing you think is, 'oh, let's add booze'?”

Gavin shrugs. “Why not? Then it's even better. Are you going to report me for underage drinking?”

“I drank underage,” Michael tells him after another sip. “I'd just be a giant asshole if I said anything about you.”

He'd be a giant asshole if he said anything about _anyone_ for that matter. Trying to fill out a report against Gavin's drinking would probably get him arrested, too.

“All right, then. We're good.”

Silence falls in the kitchen after that. Michael stares at his boots in the sink and takes occasional sips of soda. Hell if he knows what Gavin stares at. He doesn't move from Michael's side, nor does he try to take the hair dryer back. If he has something to say, he doesn't say it. Michael doesn't find any reason to talk, either. It's an oddly comfortable silence.

He thinks on that for a couple minutes before he finds himself lowering the hair dryer slightly. Not enough for Gavin to notice, but enough that he feels like he has to switch hands or else drop it entirely. He changes the soda and the dryer around quickly and aims the air flow inside his boot. It doesn't matter if the outside is still damp; the quicker the soles get dry, the better.

Michael's lost track of the time when Gavin puts his soda down and steps away from the counter.

“Clothes should be done by now,” he says over the dryer. “I'll go get your stuff.”

Michael nods and lets Gavin leave the room quickly. He remains in front of the sink with his almost bottle and the hair dryer awkwardly until Gavin returns with a bundle of warm clothes. “Done?”

“Bit of static,” Gavin says, peeling Michael's shirt away from his sweater. “But yeah, it's done. Let's check the boots.”

Michael turns turns the dryer off and empties both hands next to the sink. Gavin grabs one of his boots and Michael takes the other, feeling the inside sole first. “Feels okay to me.”

“This one's still damp,” Gavin reports, shrugging. “But it's not going to stop you, I guess.”

“Let me see that,” Michael takes the other boot and slips his hand in it. He ignores the little laugh from Gavin when he holds up both hands as if to weigh the boot on each of them.“They both feel fine to me.”

“Are you planning to go on your hands all the way home?” Gavin asks between chuckles.

“No.” Michael sets his boots on the floor and takes his clothes. “I'll change back now.”

“You can leave those in the bathroom for now,” Gavin says to his retreating back. “I'll get them later.”

“Right.”

Michael shuts the bathroom door and stares at the shower wall for a few seconds. The house has gone quiet again, but not completely. The rain is still coming down softly and the drone of the dryer is still echoing in his head. The surprisingly powerful dryer. Which is good. Okay. He strips hastily, making up for the time he spent staring at Gavin's shower, and pulls his own clothes on. The warmth on his skin is almost too much, but he puts the sweater on and zips it up anyway. He needs somewhere keep his hands.

Gavin isn't in the kitchen anymore when Michael returns. Neither are his boots. They've ended up next to the front door again and when Michael goes to the entryway, he finds Gavin sitting backwards in the nearest chair, chest against the back of the chair and one arm hooked over the top as he watches the rain on the window. His phone is held loosely in his hand and Michael guesses that he's waiting for a response from someone else.

“The rain's letting up,” Gavin says when he sees Michael in the doorway. “It's nice now.”

“How long will it take to get wet now?” Michael asks, standing in front of the window. Gavin is out of his sight, but he hears him shift in the chair.

“In this? Nah. This is like the perfect walking rain, Vincent, you'll be fine even if you go now. It'll be hardly even noticeable.”

“Hope so,” Michael mutters. He's going to have to walk through the deep underground streets after it.

Gavin's phone hums behind him and he listens as Gavin types in a quick message. Then he asks, “So? Are you gonna brave it?”

“There's not much to brave,” Michael says, smirking. He shrugs and kneels down to pull his boots on. “Yeah, I should go now. I uh... got some things to finish straightening out. I just came out for the rain.”

“Then it's pretty cool that it rained like this today, huh?”

“Well, I definitely saw what I wanted to see. All in all, it's been a good day.”

“Really?”

Michael stands up and faces Gavin with a deadpan expression. “Don't push your luck.”

“The _gratitude_ in your tone is wonderful,” Gavin says, grinning.

Michael smiles. “Okay, fine. I'll hand you some points for the raccoon warning. And seriously, thanks for letting me stay and dry off. You're not actually as much of an asshole as I thought you were.”

If Gavin is so much as stung by that comment, he doesn't show it. Hell, he probably thought the same as Michael. “I can be nice occasionally,” he says. “And besides, I think I like talking to you. You're a funny person.”

“That better not be another way of saying you think I'm an idiot,” Michael warns, stepping back to the door. “I know where you live now. I can find you and totally wreck all your pictures.”

Gavin gasps dramatically. “Vincent, I still have to eat!”

“You said you had a fucking job,” Michael reminds him. Once again, he shakes off the odd feeling in him at the sound of his middle name in Gavin's voice. It's starting to feel almost like something rubbing the wrong way. “And you're already asking for it, I told you not to take pictures of me.”

“Aw, but it's so hard to resist. Sometimes it's hard to find genuinely happy people.” Gavin sighs. “But if the subject doesn't want the pictures to see the light of day, they won't. I'm not that much of an ass.”

“That's good to know.” Michael turns the doorknob, holds it still. “See you around, I guess.”

“Bye, Vincent,” Gavin says, waving his free hand. Michael starts to open the door, but stops half way there. He stares at his hand on the knob for long enough that Gavin shifts in the chair again and asks, “Did you forget something or – something?”

Bah. What the hell.

“Michael.”

“Huh?”

Michael turns to see Gavin's face in a perfect display of confusion. “Vincent is, uh, actually my middle name. My name's Michael.”

Gavin tilts his head, eyes slightly wider. “Are you serious? You all meet people and give them your middle name first?”

Michael shakes his head, smiling. “No, I just – I didn't know anybody when I first got up here. I was just being careful. But that's kind of dumb at this point, so you can ditch my middle name.”

“Oh.” Gavin blinks a few times before his smile returns. “Okay. You look more like a Michael anyway. Thanks for telling me that. See you around, Michael.”

Michael waves quickly and finally opens the door. “Later, Gav.”

–

“So, you were gone for a while,” Geoff says, leaning against Michael's counter and smiling lazily. “How was it?”

“Wet and cold,” Michael replies, shuffling back and forth across his kitchen as he prepares dinner. “But good.”

“You were seriously out dancing in the rain, weren't you?”

“So what?” Michael doesn't continue on to ask what led Geoff to that conclusion.

“Nothing,” Geoff waves it off. “It's just always nice to see kids running around with a complete disregard for their physical well being. Anyway, I got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

I'm having a get together with a few friends in a couple weeks,” Geoff begins. “Not sure about which day yet, but I think it'd be cool if you came.”

Michael pauses in his preparations and looks at Geoff over his shoulder. “By 'friends' do you mean...?”

“Yeah, some people I know are coming down here.”

“How many?”

Geoff shrugs. “A few. You don't have to worry about anyone getting caught. They're practically masters in their crafts, not even an Aitrix native will realize they're Cardaci.”

Michael considers it for a moment. I just wanted to see the sun, he thinks faintly. Now it feels like Geoff's pulling him deeper and deeper into this – this _situation_ , whatever the hell it is. Geoff is hardly even _doing_ anything in the first place. He's just pushing Michael along every once and a while, to hell with what Michael's actually doing above ground. He sighs inaudibly. It's too late to back out now, he knows that. Not when he's finding himself associating certain colors and shapes with an actual person.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, pulling a knife out to begin chopping vegetables. “Just tell me when you figure the date out, okay, since I'm guessing you want to keep this as quiet as possible?”

“Quieter than the fucking clouds,” Geoff agrees. “Thanks, Michael.”

Michael isn't exactly sure why Geoff's thanking him, but he rolls with it anyway and makes sure to cut up enough food for Geoff.

 


End file.
